Are you ready to party?!

We are less than ONE week away from Mom's LAST treatment!! Holy cow. It's so fantastic to be able to say that. It's been a crazy summer, full of a million different highs and lows. But here's the thing--it's almost over. It will be a few months before Mom really feels like it's actually over. It's going to take awhile for her to feel "normal." But in a couple of weeks, we can really say that it can only go up. Like Brad wrote, the word to describe how I feel is relief. Not enthusiasm, not really excitement either. Sure, there was inexpressible joy at hearing the news that the PET scan was clear. But there was also the realization afterward that, although a clean scan was the thing we'd all been hoping and praying for, it didn't signal an immediate end. I think that's been hard for Mom. Sometimes it's hard to be happy, enthusiastic, or excited during this time. The results of the scan have brought out some sort of conflicting and unexpected emotions. "Shouldn't I feel excited that I only have one left?" It's an amazing feeling to know that it's almost over--but it still isn't over. It's easy to feel guilty for not feeling grateful all the time. There's a difference though, between feeling incredibly grateful for answered prayers and feeling constantly enthusiastic. So that's what we've been working on reconciling lately, but overall, life is great! 

The reason for this post--after all that rambling--is to remind you of our fundraiser barbecue THIS Saturday at Lindsey Gardens in the Avenues.                                                                                          

                        

I can guarantee it's going to be a blast! Good company, good food, and-as far as I can tell-great weather! (The high is 88!) We'd love, so much, to be able to see all of you. To catch up, pig out, and share our celebration and gratitude with you. Will you do that for us? :) Hope to see you there!! Please share this post and the invite with your friends and family. We would love to see all of you!

Relief.

Is it possible that the spring, summer and fall of 2013 will represent merely a moment where a life, many lives really, were sidetracked by an invasion that seemed to spring from nowhere wreak some momentary havoc and then vanish almost as quickly as it came?  The idea seems sort of unreal and impossible right now, but maybe five, ten, twenty years from now Mom will think back and say, "Yes . . . that was scary, and the chemotherapy, that really sucked.”  And those of us who didn't have to live through the treatments, “Oh yeah, I almost forgot Mom had cancer.” 

It feels like too much to hope for, but I really hope so.

For now the invasion still looms pretty large, but some of that enormous weight was lifted this week.  It appears that my mom has had all twenty pounds or so of the lymphoma she once carried melt itself away, greedily eating up the Rituximab, Doxorubicin, Vincristine and Cyclophosphamide dissolving a once threatening mass into puny remnants her body could whisk away.  She still has two more rounds of treatment to complete (yes Mom, you have to,) but – and I think we’re all afraid to really say it, we don’t want tempt fate – the cancer looks like it’s gone.  This might really be over soon.

Here I feel compelled to qualify my happiness . . . contain my relief.  You know, "But what if it’s not."  That sort of measured reaction, not wanting to get my hopes up or be too happy, too sad, I think I get that from my mom.  But we should be happy.  This is exactly what we were hoping for.  Since the day we heard “Diffuse large B-Cell blah blah blah” hearing, “the PET scan is clear” on Tuesday was the best possible outcome.  So. . . YES!  What this means is unless something changes my mom has won her race.  She talked about being able to see the finish line, and I like that metaphor. One thing I’d add to it though, nothing is chasing her anymore.  The finish line is in sight and the competition has already dropped out.

What a relief.  I love my mom, I don’t like thinking about what it might be like without her.  This means I don’t have to do that so much anymore, which is a burden lifted, let me tell you.  Knowing that your mom isn't carrying around 20 lbs of lurking cancer inside her anymore feels good.  I know there are hard days ahead, and my Mom probably won’t really be feeling good herself for quite some time, but even if the hard part isn't really over, it looks like the scariest part is behind us.  Good riddance.

Monday Update

Just a quick update for today. We are anxiously awaiting the results of Mom's PET scan last week. She and Jeff are headed to see Dr. Whisenant tomorrow morning to find out if she will have just 2 more treatments, or four. The scan seemed to go well, and the technician even said, "I know I'm not a doctor, but this looks really good!" But we will wait for the final word tomorrow. Other than that, Mom's been feeling pretty well, with just a little nausea and fatigue here and there. 

One more thing. We are planning a fundraiser dinner for the 20th, most likely at Murray park. Save the date for some great food and great company! 

I also want to say thank you for all your love, support, prayers, dinners, visits, (I could go on forever!) it means so much to Mom and to us kids too! You are our strength and we love you!