After early-morning bloodwork and a CT scan, the word is in: no surprises in my chemistry, no new passengers on board. This means we slow my visits from twice a year to once a year, and my chances of recurrence have dropped again. Good news we all needed on a Monday after a long, hard weekend.
This morning’s radiation went smoothly and quickly, and they played Fleetwood Mac. I was on the train platform by 8:35 and at work by 9:30. Appetite is normal, functions are all normal—I’m peeing more these days and it takes some coaxing to empty the whole jug, but it’s working—but today at 2:00 I felt the gauges all dropping to zero at once. I had to get up and walk around to keep from passing out at my desk. Luckily there was a lot to do in different places, so I kept busy as much as I could.
Wednesday they put the port in, so I’ll be at the hospital all morning and working from home that afternoon. There’s nothing about the procedure that sounds good to me other than the fact that they won’t keep sticking me in the arm to give me the chemo drugs. I still feel (mostly) healthy; I can’t believe they’re going to do their best to almost kill me twice before cutting me open. None of this seems real.