Today was an exceptional day.
The USA won their World Cup match in the last few breathtaking minutes. The longest match in tennis history occurred at Wimbledon, with the match finally being suspended due to darkness at 59-59 in the fifth set! (Ten hours of tennis with no winner, are you kidding me?) A very close friend of mine won their dream job and is completely, utterly thrilled. Also, it was a ridiculously gorgeous day in Seattle.
Goodness all around. With the way things were rolling, I felt pretty sure I'd also get an extraordinary phone call from my doctor. But no one called. (So, no results yet.)
That's ok, though. Oddly enough, I'm not really sweating over these results. I have faith that things are moving in the right direction for me, and if this test does not yield the "all clear", the next one probably will. Sure, I'd like to hear the words, "Your cancer is gone" (not to mention the words, "Soon your chemo will be FINISHED", because that crap is getting _A_LITTLE_BIT_OLD), but I know there's nothing I can do to influence those results. The test is over, now it's time to wait.
It's a strange thing, this cancer business. For most people, your actions directly influence your health. You exercise and eat well, you lose weight and stay healthy. You brush your teeth, and prevent cavities. You wash your hands, and you won't get a cold. You wear sunscreen, and your skin won't prematurely age. But with cancer, I can do everything right, but I can't really do a damned thing to change the course the disease decides to take. I am not whining here, I am simply marveling over the strangeness and inequity of it. It's not like I "had this comin'". I was living a pretty clean life before my colon decided to stop editing out its mutant cells.
Ok, I think there are a few exceptions to my "I can't do a damned thing to change all this"-statement. I can eat even better, I can stay positive, I can exercise, I can see good doctors and take good medicines. I know, I know. But even so, only so much is within my control now. And for a headstrong young person with big plans for her life, this is a tough pill to swallow.
Actually, I think I just realized something: Was any of it ever truly in my control before? Or did I just THINK I was the person pulling the strings?
Well, that's a big question for another day. Right now, I'm laying in bed, prepping for my big day tomorrow. It's Chemo #13. And my doctor is going to tell my what he learned from Tuesday's PET scan. And I'm going to be ok with it.
And I promise to let you know what I learn!