Happily Ever After

While I was in the throes of cancer, I started reading blogs about cancer. Of course. I still have a number of those blogs on my reading list, but only a few of them get updated with any sort of regularity. There seem to be two ways that blogs end. One is that the blogger ends treatment, moves on, and lives happily ever after (or something like that). The other is that the blogger dies, which sadly, is not an uncommon ending in the world of cancerland blogging.

Seeing as how it has been over a month since my last entry, I suppose one could say this blog is coming to an end, too. But since I don't feel comfortable throwing a 'happily ever after' party just yet, I figured I should write something.

So, I saw my medical oncologist, Dr. M on Friday. The fact that I almost didn't write anything about it speaks volumes to how far I've come since my first meeting with him. It's a good thing. My daughter didn't have school, so I had her in tow, and Dr. M spent about seven minutes with me, three of which we talked about our dislike of crowds, and how we don't have any desire to go to Disney World. The other four minutes, we talked about the effect that tamoxifen is having on me (hot flashes, cold flashes, nausea, fatigue, moodiness, and generally not feeling like myself), the fact that I haven't had a period since my surgery in September (can I really be in menopause?), and whether or not I should have a pelvic ultrasound for the mass in my uterus (the one that keeps showing up on my hip MRIs). Dr. M did a brief physical exam (not of my uterus, thankfully), told me I was due for a mammogram (OMG it has been one year already!), and asked me a lot of questions that made me realize that he pretty much has no idea who I am. And that's fine. I don't want to become close with my oncologist. That is certainly not something that lends itself to a 'happily ever after' blog termination. In the end, he suggested trying some sort of herbal supplement that might help with the side effects from tamoxifen (I forget what it is) and said he would read the results of my hip MRIs and call me that afternoon to discuss the pelvic ultrasound (he didn't). I hope that he and I remain cordial strangers.

On the other end of the spectrum, on April 12th, Dr. T drove down to my school (the 130-mile trek I'm always complaining about when I have to go see him) to give his talk on advances in plastic surgery that I arranged last October. He gave a fascinating talk, then we went out to dinner - Dr. T, my parents, me, and a colleague I invited along. My parents always take the speakers out to dinner after cafe talks, and sometimes they invite me if they can't find any other faculty to go with them. Of course, me going along this time was a no-brainer. The evening was quite pleasant, and a funny thing happened. Afterward, my parents and my colleague just went on and on and on about how FABULOUS and AMAZING Dr. T was - not just as a surgeon, but as a human being. I was a little surprised at first, because to me the evening had the same feel as, like, an evening out with my book club friends. You know, a nice evening with good food and wine and conversation. Dr. T seemed very relaxed, not as if he were putting on a big show. But then I realized that my dad had never met this man before, and my mom only met him once (and was apparently lusting after him the whole time), and my colleague only knew what few details I shared about him with her. And I remembered the first time I met Dr. T, how awe-struck I was, and how I knew he was the answer to my prayers. I then understood that was what my parents and colleague were experiencing, and it reminded me to never get so used to something that I take it for granted.

I had had a bit of a crazy day leading up to the talk/dinner and was exhausted by the end. When I get so tired/worked up, I often lose my appetite. However, after Dr. T's comments at my last appointment about how I had lost weight and do I even like food, I was determined to show him just how much I can eat, haha. Sad but true story: I felt super self-conscious trying to eat dinner with this guy who thinks I don't eat. Nevertheless, I enjoyed my trout and managed to fit everything on my plate into my GI tract. After dinner, we left the restaurant and said our goodbyes in the parking lot. Dr. T went to shake my hand, but at that point it seemed more appropriate to hug him, so I did, and he hugged me back. It's hard to believe that after all this, that was a first. I love this guy.

Meanwhile, life continues at the relentless pace of 100 MPH. I do think my fatigue is improving (considering it's 11:24 PM as I write this sentence), and that is good. On the other hand, I have been emotionally very fragile, crying long and hard over stupid, stupid, stupid shit, sometimes not even anything sad. For instance, I was at the park today with my kids and the ice cream truck drove by, playing typical ice cream truck music, and upon hearing it, I burst out crying. That is not good. On the other hand, reflecting upon it, I realized the music brought forth so many memories, and while processing these memories, I was full of a genuine love for life, and realized that I want to live for a long, long time. I am not sure if I started crying because I was so happy, or because I am afraid I won't get my wish. Hopefully it's the former. Then again, maybe it's just the tamoxifen.