Isn't it funny how fast we can get into a routine?  If you're anything like me you struggle in the beginning because it's change, and honestly who likes change in the beginning?  It's new and there are a lot of unknowns, but before you know it you find your groove, and later think to yourself, "that wasn't so bad".

Even though my radiation plan was a short 4 weeks it didn't take long to find my groove.  I'd go into the office in the morning and work until about 1:30.  At that point I'd wrap up whatever I was working on, gather up my lunch bag and purse while my computer finished shutting down, zip up my laptop into the travel bag, and off I'd go.  I'd be to my car by about 1:40 and to Hubert Humphrey right around my 2:10 appointment time.  From my appointment, I'd head straight home to finish out the last couple hours of my work day before shutting everything down for the night only to repeat the process the next day.  My last radiation appointment was on Monday and I have to admit, it's strange not packing everything up when 1:30 comes around.  I'm such a creature of habit, but I know that I'll develop a new routine (whatever that may be) soon enough.

Since my last appointment I've had a couple people ask me, "Aren't you excited that you're all done with radiation?" only to give me a look of confusion when I respond, "yes and no".  "No?"  they ask.  Sure, I'm thrilled to be done with radiation.  It's another step in the right direction, but at the same time I'm scared.  This may sound strange to some, but I'm at peace when I'm going through treatment in a way because I know that my body is receiving what it needs to be healed from this nasty disease.   Even if I'm nauseous, fatigued, or losing my hair I'm still being treated.  When treatments end it's as if my security blanket has been taken away from me.  It's time to see what my body is truly made of, and that to me is scary. 

Between my initial cancer diagnosis, and a recurrence within a month of my ABVD treatments ending there is no denying that I'm anxious, cautious, sick to my stomach with worry (etc. etc. etc.) about my future.  Will Dr. McClune tell me that I'm in remission on Wednesday?  This road has been long, curvy, and bumpy to say the least.  I'm looking for...scratch that.  I'm EXPECTING good news on Wednesday.  It's something I pray for daily.  My eyes instantly flood with tears when I think about how heartbreaking it will be if I receive bad news after all this.  How will I react if I do receive bad news?  How will I react if I receive the news I want?  I'll probably cry either way because that's how I roll.   There's a lot of tossing and turning that goes on at night, sometimes resulting in a very stiff neck when that alarm clock goes off.  I don't know what's worse - being left in silence with your thoughts as you're trying to fall asleep or medicating yourself for sleep and anxiety.  I'd really like to avoid the latter because that's all I need is to become dependent on pills when my mind is uneasy.

I wonder if these scans and result appointments will ever get any easier, but I think I already know the answer.  Please pray friends and family that the PET scan this Friday goes well, that I'm able to find peace while I wait for results, and that we finally get the GOOD news we've been longing for on October 3.

 I can't believe I'm already starting my third week of radiation tomorrow.  Seriously, where did the last 2 weeks go?  It feels like just yesterday I was nervously walking into the clinic not really knowing how to proceed, attempting to check in at the front desk only to be given "the look" followed by, "it must be your first day" in an annoyed tone.  I wanted to tell the lady to bite me, but instead responded with a polite, "sure is!".  Now I'm an ole' pro!  When I walk into the clinic I go straight back through the corridor where all the action happens.  I know that the 2 dressing rooms are against the back wall containing a wicker basket full of neatly stacked hospital gowns.  I am to undress from the waist up, putting on one of these lovely gowns.  Once I'm done changing, I know to put all my belongings in one of the 8 lockers right outside the dressing room doors, and take the key with me.  The keys all hang from a brightly-colored plastic scrunchy piece that fits ever so nicely around one's wrist as not to be lost.

There is a lovely little waiting area consisting of 4 chairs that the patients are to sit when waiting for their turn.  There has only been one occurrence where someone else was sitting there waiting when I arrived, and it was right when I started.  It was a woman in what I would guess her 30's rocking a blonde wig very similar to mine.  I remember thinking to myself how real it looked.  She must have been curious why I was there as anytime I'd look up I'd find her staring at me only to quickly shift her eyes elsewhere as if knowing I just totally busted her.  At that moment I said, "hi" and smiled, trying to make things a little less awkward.  She returned the pleasantry, and that was the end of our conversation.  My name was called a couple minutes later and off I went. 

I believe I have a few more days where my chest and upper abdomen are being radiated, and then they'll focus on just my chest particularly in the spots where the recurrence occurred. Apparently they call this "the boost".  Sounds powerful doesn't it?  It simply means additional radiation to a small part of the initial targeted field/area.  Hey, you can call it whatever you want as long as it works.  Bring on the boost!

I was prescribed a no-named liquid medication for some new acidity I've developed in my throat the last few days.  I'm guessing this is what the radiation doc initially warned me about potentially experiencing when he said I may feel as though my esophagus is irritated.  It seems to come and go, but when it first started I was at my desk at work feeling as though I was going to throw up right then and there from the extreme burning sensation in my throat.  It felt as though a hot pepper got lodge back there burning a hole straight through.  The medication is meant to help coat the throat and also has some sort of numbing agent in it.  I've only used it once and it numbed my tongue and throat, making eating or drinking interesting.   I think I will avoid this medication unless things get out of control.

 I'm still fatigued, which is no surprise.  Sometimes I wake up tired the day after treatment, and other times it hits me a couple hours after treatment.  It just really varies.  Thankfully I'm able to go home straight from my appointment and get in a good 2-3 nap if needed after treatments.  If I'm tired, I take a nap.  It's as easy as that.  It's all about listening to the body, and providing it with what it needs to heal.

My home for the next 3 weeks...

I survived my first week of radiation, and I can report that outside of slight fatigue, it was a breeze!  Radiation is everyday Monday through Friday and then I have the weekends to myself.  I was able to get an extra day off with it being Labor Day weekend, but I'll be back at it tomorrow again. 

Outside of radiation,  things have been fairly busy for Josh and I, but we're not complaining.  We're enjoying being able to be out and about more, catching up with friends and family that unfortunately had to take a backseat for a while there while I was in my 30-day recovery period from the stem cell transplant.  I can't believe I'm already at day +73.  June seems like forever ago at this point!  Where did the time go?

I have my follow-up PET scan at the end of September (the 28th) with results on October 3rd, and I have to tell you - I'm totally freaked out.  This PET scan will tell us if I'm officially in remission after all sorts of harsh chemo, a stem cell transplant and 4 weeks of radiation.  I don't even like admitting it, but I'm struggling to maintain a positive mindset that everything will work out for me.  I want more than anything to believe this cancer is long gone, and I need to believe this cancer is gone.  Unfortunately I don't see myself being able to chill out until I receive confirmation that yes, this cancer is indeed gone.  I think my caution comes out of being overly optimistic when I finished my ABVD treatments, only to be crushed by news that I was already experiencing a cancer recurrence within a month of my chemo ending.  This should not happen, and even Dr. Londer told me that in all the years he has been an oncologist, he has never seen this happen.  Why do doctors even tell patients things like that?  Nothing about that statement gave me the warm fuzzies, and what good did it do me by telling me that? All it did was assist in fueling my anxiety.  I feel like such a hypocrite at times because I'm the first to tell people going through tough times to remain positive, and here I am struggling to do the same.  Don't get me wrong.  There are definitely days when nothing can pull me down.  I just seem to have hit a rough patch.  I CAN and I WILL beat this.   I CAN and I WILL beat this.  I CAN and I WILL beat this. 

It has been a while since Josh and I have been able to make it to church so this Sunday was our day to get back into the swing of things.  It felt good!  I always feel refreshed and energized after attending and hearing the wonderful sermons that Mt. Olivet so often delivers.  Pastor Beth - You're a big part in why we love Mt. Olivet so much.  You never fail to make Josh and I feel so welcome when we see you.   I promise I really don't cry all the time even though it looks that way sometimes ;).  You've really touched my heart.  You were there in the beginning when I was newly diagnosed with cancer to offer support, delivering that beautiful prayer shawl to my home.  And you've been there ever since waving at us from across the room in church when our eyes meet, sending emails just to check in, and making references to my blog that you follow.  Thank you for being so amazing!