About three weeks, another of the veils came off in my chemo recovery process. Nine months after completing my chemotherapy course, I have finally returned to my old levels of energy, and concomitantly, my old sleeping habits and food metabolism. I’ve seen a change in my food intake, a drop in my weight, an increase in both my desire for and tolerance of exercise/physical activity, an improvement in my focus and energy, and a sharp rise in my emotional health and sense of happiness.
All just in time for my next scan.
I suppose it’s the way the world works. The forthcoming ambiguity is really starting to mess with my head. As I’ve said before, given my odds of recurrent metastasis, I feel like I’m playing Russian roulette with a half-loaded pistol.
So I’m in the odd position right of feeling better than I have in almost two years while simultaneously holding the dread and fear of losing the next 15+ months to the same brand of hell I’ve just crawled out of.
The costs of this have been so high, in terms of life and love and everything else. Oh God, do I not want to do it again. But the costs of letting it sweep me away are higher.
Live today. That’s all I can do.