One Week Later

A week ago Sunday we had a great Father's Day dinner at Lee & Betsy's. A rosy light was cast over Malibu Canyon and Monte Nido that made us all just look extra good. Restaurants need to work on replicating light that feels like this.

And then it was Monday. While it may be hard for anyone to truly believe how crazy I am at times, suffice it to say that Himself makes my doctor appointments for me and keeps them a surprise until the actual morning of the visit because I get so complete shaken and weird just thinking about them. Oh, I handle the regular doctor and the dentist visits and that sort of thing but when it comes to my O.N.C.O.L.O.G.I.S.T., Himself takes over. He is, quite simply put, a man among men when it comes to helping me cope with the aftershocks of a 'bout' with cancer. I'll go into more detail when I get a few weeks away from this latest visit, but Monday morning I went for a swim and then headed off to the garden center and called home to see if there were any gardening needs that I could satisfy when I was told, "I'm sorry to spring this on you, dear, but you need to hurry home. You've got a doctor appointment in 50 minutes." Himself takes me to every appointment. He sits with me and calms me with his complete optimism and talks to me about the minutiae of living. And I try not to wail like a banshee. I mostly succeed, but there are moments when I don't recognize myself.

So, Monday was the day of the visit, the day when a vein is found and blood taken to be sent off where it can be tested and then by Friday at the latest, a call is made. No, not to me, to my husband, so he can then tell me the news. I know there are only two things he can tell me. "Honey, you're fine, what did I tell you? I knew your numbers would be good" or...oh fuck, I can't even put the flip side to words. But I know the words because I've heard them once before and believe me, they rock your boat, big time.

But the news came early this week, on Thursday, and the news was great. And they don't want to see me for another year. While a year passes quickly, it feels so far into the future. During my four months of chemotherapy (four whole years ago), I saw my doctor every week. I gave blood every week and my numbers were monitored very closely. Then when it was over, those infusions of life-saving poison, the doctor said, I'll see you in a month. A MONTH, I thought. A whole month without seeing a doctor. It felt like an eternity. And so for six months, I saw the doctor once monthly. And then I saw him every three months and that felt like an eternity and then it was every six months and now it is a yearly visit and maybe, soon, I'll be able to make my own appointments.

Six weeks ago, my daughter and I participated in the Revlon Run/Walk for Breast and Ovarian Cancer. It is such an emotionally charged event in which you grieve for those who didn't make it while celebrating with those who did. I'm a lucky woman.