And the results are CLEAN!!!!

Yes, yes, yes!!! The PET scan came back clean. No malignant neoplasia this far. A tiny mass in the right boob, but apparently nothing to worry about. Now I am waiting for the blood test results, to make sure there is no tumor-like activity... But I already feel that the dice was thrown, and that I won. Let me say it again, slowly: the dice was thrown, and in this round, I won. This babe seems to be cancer free!!!

Tests, tests, tests...

Yesterday I had my first round of tests--a full body PET and a bilateral mammogram. The former was annoying, because I had to drink radioactive water and then get more radioactive stuff in my veins. I am tired of all the needles. however, the mammogram was much worse than what I expected. It hurt like hell, on both sides. On the right side, because of the port, which got pulled and pressed into my chest. On the left side, because of the scar tissue inside of my boob. Tomorrow I will go to get the blood tests done. They will have to draw a lot of blood, I am afraid. Again, I am tired of all the needles. But at least I am feeling almost normal!! This week I have been able to get up, work, walk the doggies, play the piano. I am not dizzy, not nauseous. No puking, either. YAY!!! Everything is ok.

Getting ready for the next phase...

We went to see my favorite oncologist yesterday, and he made me feel good. He attentively examined my boobs, admired how well the left boob looks despite having undergone a partial mastectomy, and was generally pleased with my progress. He then gave me three prescriptions, which all mark important transitions:

1. A new oncologist, who will be responsible for radiotherapy. I already have an appointment for this Friday, to set the stage for what apparently will only be 30 sessions (5 a week, for 6 weeks), beginning in May. I am elated by the thought of 30 instead of 40, I have to say. It also feels like the beginning of the end of this cancer treatment journey, which at many moments appeared to be endless.

2. A huge collection of tests, ranging from a mammogram, to over a dozen tumor indicators screened through blood samples, to a full PET scan. The appointment is for next Monday. Despite hating needles, I am actually excited about the tests. I want irrefutable proof that the fucking gremlin is gone. Nevertheless, waiting for that confirmation to arrive is daunting. I woke up at 6 am today, haunted by the possibility of un-clean results...

3. A prescription for Tamoxifen, which reads "one pill, 20 mg, every 24 hrs, for the next five years". This is even more daunting. A prescription for five years feels exactly like what it means--this story is not really over until it is over. And it ain't over until you are clean for five years. Which will imply a daily reminder in the form of a pill, a quarterly reminder in the form of blood tests, a half-yearly reminder in the form of mammograms and a yearly reminder in the form of PET scans.

So, I am indeed only really getting ready for the next phase... RTx. One step at a time. But, at least, I am walking.

Might this be the last round...

Of discomfort, nausea, and other less pleasant symptoms? This last AC scheme hit me hard, and I have been dizzy, weak and feeling awful pretty much most of the time.

I made a case of not complaining too loud, because it is the last one. But it has not been pretty.

Tomorrow is our appointment with the onc surgeon. He will examine the state of the heroic boob, and I am sure that he will be pleased to see that the scar finally looks completely sealed. Maybe he will give me some tips to make it fade quicker? He might even explain why, when I touch the left end of the scar, it tingles beneath my arm, almost on the back... I feel like this frog I read about in primary school, whose belly skin had been replaced with back skin and, as a result, he would scratch his back when touched on the belly. :)

Supposedly the doctor will also prescribe my full PET, which will finally let us know if the gremlins are gone. I think that they are gone, for good. At night, when I wake up because of the hot flashes, I sometimes wonder if there might be a trace left of the cancer. But I always feel that the answer to that question is a definite and non-negotiable NO. Now I want to hear it from the doctor. I want the ultimate scientific proof.

Don't hold your breath. It will take a couple of weeks til we get there...

The chemical romance came to an end yesterday...

And we did not want you to miss it!!!!

Here is a picture of Gabo and me, playing silly, at the hospital. We were so happy that this was the last session that we brought cake for the nurses and doctors.

And we escaped late at night from the hospital and came back home.

Today, I have not been feeling good. My head aches and my tummy feels funny again, but me spirit remains unbeaten.

It is over!!!!

Let's find the exquisite pleasures that radiation has in storage.

In the swimming pool...

Today, I went swimming for the first time since Sitges, in August, with Shaamela and Ann. The oncologist told me on Tuesday that I could start swimming. And I have been suffering from pain all along my left arm, with tendons that feel hard as over-strechted cables. I called my arm doctor in the morning and she said that swimming would help.

It was such a wonderful sensation to be in the water!!! I spent half an hour swimming slowly, feeling the liquid sensation all around me, enjoying every second of it. The water was extremely pleasant, comforting, liberating. It felt like another small step back to normalcy.

My arm feels a bit better now. If I am not exhausted tomorrow after this extenuating exercise (LOL--the side effects of seven months under house arrest are terrible...) I will go again tomorrow or on Sunday. It was WONDERFUL!

And, the final countdown has begun: next Tuesday is my LAST chemo session.

I. Can't. Believe. It.

Betsy and Cecile were here...

...and I felt sooooo happy. We went to Queretaro, and spent three days with the Lagartos. Getting out of the house, sitting in a garden, chatting with people I love, was just wonderful.

My white blood cells were plummeting and I had neuropathy on the right side of my face/head during the last week, but there was so much joy that I was able to ignore it most of the time.

Yesterday we went to see the oncologist, and he programmed for next Tuesday what will be my VERY LAST CHEMO SESSION. Let me repeat that: MY VERY FUCKING LAST CHEMO SESSION IS ON APRIL 10.

After that, a PET scan will be run. And if it is clean, the port will be extracted. I cannot really grasp it yet.

Of course, there still is the radio therapy. It has been confirmed and I have the name of the doctor who will be responsible of that piece of the treatment, which will start in May.

But this week, I will not think about radiation. I will only think about the fact that chemo is almost over. Seven months have gone by since I went into surgery...