The Tuesday after she left, I headed to Boston for another CT scan to check the progress of my treatments. If you recall, a little over six weeks ago, I got the fabulous news that after just two treatments, my tumors had shrunk in size about 36%. I remember getting that call, how it felt to hear that what I was going through was worth all the chaos and discomfort and trouble. So it was with that fresh in my memory that I happily drove to Boston, drank the raspberry flavored barium concoction, and cheerily lied still for my umpteenth scan.
In my mind, it was going to be spectacular. I was going to hear how amazed my team was by my progress, how again my tumors had shrunk beyond their most optimistic hope. I anxiously waited for the call from my research nurse. When the phone finally rang, I couldn’t wait to hear the good news. Instead I heard that there was basically no change, my tumors were pretty much holding fast at their current size.
Anyone who has dieted for any length of time knows the feeling: you lose pound after pound until you hit a plateau, and then there you sit. You’re still dieting, you aren’t cheating, you exercise daily, you forgo the morning donut. But you’re stuck at THAT weight. I look at this as my tumor plateau. I will eventually move from this spot, but for now this is where I am. And so, it is with a lack of success euphoria that I head off to Boston tomorrow morning for Treatment 5. Despite the mild frustration, I’m oddly excited to get it over with because it means that I’ll be one day closer to seeing all the Christmas company - the Tall Man, my sisters, one brother-in-law, two nephews, a niece, and the returning cousin and fiancee. And this makes me very happy :)
If you don’t hear from me before then, I hope you have an enjoyable holiday, full of good food, good company, and great memories. I know I will!
