Everything I was BC (before cancer) is the same as it is now. Since I'm still doing chemotherapy, with one treatment left this month, technically I'm in a holding mode for diagnosis. The last CT scans showed nothing "suspicious" a cop-out way for radiologists to be safe when writing their reports. The way I see it, I either have it or I don't and I prefer to believe the latter. Just say that I'm not suspicious of the suspicious. The severity of side effects and the number of odd differences in my physical self can attest to the fact that the drugs have shaken up those crappy cells determined to eat away at my good cells. I'm confident I am receiving the immunotherapy (mystery clinical trial experimental drug, Avastin) and it is vacuuming up those deceased cancer boogers and I am blowing them out of my nose. Interesting theory, eh? I will have a news conference on my findings and opinions when I have the time to talk to my committee that lives in my brain and keeps me awake some nights until I scribble them down haphazardly on a bedside notepad in the dark.
Meanwhile, I will enjoy the next week and a half I have before I go in for my last treatment and that includes being honored for the chance to do the best job ever: being a Mother.
Great writing.
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