period

So I went and saw my oncologist last week for another lets see how things are going visit. I’m liking her a tad less every visit. It’s that emotionally unavailable bit. And I get it. But I just need her to see me. Me. Not a cancer patient. Anyhooo I am trundling along, my bloodwork was good, my fatigue is lessening, I’m starting to make peace with and accept the side effects of the Aromasin. It just becomes your new normal. I have changed my mood stabilising meds, see what I did there, and psychobitch seems to be making fewer appearances, although my family might disagree.  I am delaying decisions re future treatment until next year.  2016 has done enough. I am finally getting at fifty that life is a series of commas. There are no full stops. And especially with cancer. It is not over. It never was over. I will never be able to say with certainty I am cancer free. So what am I you ask?  I am officially in remission, which is defined as ‘a temporary diminution of the severity of disease or pain’. Yay me. No seriously. It’s as good as it gets. There is no evidence of disease. For now. I am feeling more like me than I have in a very long time, psychobitch and my inabilty to remember anything vaguely important aside. But there is the reality of the ‘for now’. And all that does is remind me, and you I fucking hope, that it is all bloody temporary, the good and the bad. It will all pass. So celebrate every little good and seek it out, see it, and deal with the bad with as much grace and dignity as you can muster, because it is just a comma. Not a period. Period.

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