I fell into a big bucket this time...

I haven't blogged much lately. There seems to be problems with the blog system. I've written a couple of blogs only to have them disappear into a black hole.

Things have been very interesting since I received my good news. Much like the unexpected responses I received from people around me when I was diagnosed—I received unexpected responses to the good news too. I think that until you have lived through something like this; you just have no idea what it's like. I realize that some people just got their mind wrapped around the "stage 4, she could die" reality; only to be hit with a "the cancer is dead... she's gonna live" reality.

I had good response to the medicine, and it was fast. I could tell even my oncologist was a little surprised. Happy, pleased, proud... and just a little surprised. I was surprised too. I expected good results and I knew I was responding. I expected some sort of "half-gone... it's working, a few more taxol... surgery... blah, blah, blah." The completely clean PET scan brought tears of joy to my eyes. I can understand why it might cause some disbelief and "wft?" in people who are not around day to day and perhaps don't share my belief in miracles, the power of intention and magical red twizzlers.

I had some questions from people upon hearing the good news, along the lines of "well then the original diagnosis must be wrong." Nope. No mistakes there. And a few "did I misunderstand, didn't you have..." Yes. I did. And no, you didn't misunderstand. Along with a few "well you were very determined," as if I somehow killed the cancer myself through sheer tenacity and stubbornness. There were also a few comments that left me with a feeling of "gee are they upset I had good news?" Like I had committed some crime and got off too easy... um... okay. Yes, I am lucky. I know I am lucky. I once had one of my former bosses tell me that I had the "uncanny ability to fall into a bucket of shit and come out smelling like a rose." Yep. That's me. Ironic I sell roses now, eh? I just wish I would quit falling into that damn bucket of shit.

Here's the thing; I feel like the big battle was won, but the war isn't exactly over. I still have cancer in my body—dead cancer. That, in time, will diminish and go away. There is still medicine to be taken and I will be on anti-cancer medications for, most likely, the rest of my life. I will still be making trips to the hospital for Herceptin, which has to be taken intravenously for months to come. I still need to have my lung fixed so the fluid stops accumulating. I still need to get my strength back. I've got a long road ahead. I've stopped the freight train that was speeding at me; now I have to continue the hike up the mountain.

And speaking of mountains; I still have that mountain of medical bills to figure out...holy crap! Chemo ain't cheap. Nearest I can tell each treatment I had was in the 12K range. PET/CT scans run about 6K, I also have had many, many x-rays, procedures... wow... it's mind boggling. The stack of bills has grown beyond control and I'm already being called by collection agencies for some of the first procedures. Yikes! And it's going to be never ending. I have 80/20 insurance. I have to start selling a lot of roses—fast.

There is still a possibility that cancer will pop up somewhere else in my body and I will be constantly monitored for just that occurrence. That is what stage 4 is; it's not curable. It's manageable. And until something comes along that is a valid "cure" I will remain stage 4—incurable. There are a lot of people out there just me like; incurable—waiting for the cure. I'm going to be happily, joyfully, gleefully and thankfully smelling like a rose while I wait.