Hello, Here I am, still at home – yet another treatment delay due to continuing cold/flu symptoms and the need for a dental check-up.
After a visit to a specialist, it was determined that no, the offending tooth did not need a root canal. There is no sign of infection, a risk in chemotherapy. The pain has likely been caused by my teeth shifting yet again and my bite changing.
Despite the frustration of yet another treatment delay, I do have great news. The results of my PET/CT scan show that my cancer is in remission. My understanding of the term remission is that the screening tools available cannot measure any sizeable cancer in my body. I need to finish the treatment because it is possible that individual cancer cells are still floating in my lymph or blood and could begin a new growth at some point.
As you can imagine, Mike and I were pretty happy to get that good news and to have the reassurance that this treatment is working. The phrase “fighting cancer” is used so often. I think that “cancer” means different things to different people. I would say for me, cancer represents fear, worry and uncertainty. At least, I find that thus far, my fight is more with fear, worry and uncertainty than it is with deviant cells.
It seems very important right now to live in the moment as most moments are actually really good. Mike and I have often turned to each other in the past few weeks and said, “Even with cancer, this moment is really good.” I’ve found it also helps during the rough moments in hospital to remind myself, “This moment will pass.” I’ve had many wonderful moments while at home.
Ceilidh is really into crafts right now (“trafts” as she calls them), so we’ve been doing crafts for an hour every morning while Ciaran sleeps. She’s interested in writing and spends a good portion of each day filling notebook pages with scribbles, sometimes making a “grocery list” for Dad (She insists that I tell her the items to “write” down.), sometimes pretending she’s writing a letter. She dictates her letters out loud to herself and it’s quite amusing to listen in.
Ciaran has been smiling for awhile, but now he is giggling – so cute. He is also a great cuddler and likes to nap with me on the couch in the afternoon. He has such a nice sleeping and eating schedule, a much easier baby than Ceilidh was.
Dakota, Madison and Cheyenne are settled into their homes and are back into school. Each of the three is adjusting well to his/her living arrangements. It seems that each is in the right home for them:
Dakota in a highly structured environment with planned recreational activities;
Madison in a calm, peaceful home with lots of family time;
Cheyenne in a home where she is the only young child, thus able to get the attention she craves.
At this point, the plan is for me to return to hospital next Thursday, September 14, to begin treatment on Friday, September 15. I’m hoping I’ll be symptom-free by then and ready to get on with the next cycle of treatment. I’m also hoping there will be a bed for me… Well, there will be a bed, but I’m hoping for my own hospital room. When I visited the unit last Tuesday to have my viral swab done, I noted that many patients are currently sharing rooms and a couple are even camped out in the rooms normally used for outpatient chemotherapy. These rooms have no windows and no bathrooms – not fun to be in. I’m so paranoid of catching an infection now that I’ve had the flu during treatment, I’m not keen on being in close quarters with anyone during this next cycle.
Dozens of you have been sending caring and thoughtful e-mails, cards, letters, packages, meals, baking, and gifts my way. All these things are truly an encouragement to me. As you’ve noticed, I don’t always have the time or energy to reply personally to each e-mail or to write thank-you’s for each gift, but please know that your kindnesses are much appreciated and make a real difference in helping me along this journey.
Love, Sharon
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