Cheated Death Again

My husband is a pilot, and when we land he always says, “cheated death again.” I suppose it’s kind of a running joke for us. He is a meticulous pilot and I love going up with him. I feel totally safe. But those were the first words I thought when my goddess of a clinical trial nurse just sent me an email telling me my scan was “beautiful” with no evidence of disease. I thought I was going to have to wait until Thursday when I saw my oncologist, but Amy knew that despite feeling good, having my last CA 125 be 8, I was still worried. Um, that’s because I am an ovarian cancer survivor and that’s what we do. I have had diarrhea this week, which is incredibly unusual for me, so I’m thinking, it’s back. I’m gaining weight (because I’m eating too much) so I’m thinking, it’s back. It’s a day with a y in it, so I’m thinking, it’s back. It’s Tuesday, the traditional night for Jerry and me to go out to dinner with our neighbors, but they can’t make it tonight. I’m really sorry, because they have been with me every step of the way and I would love to celebrate with them. We started going out to dinner on Tuesdays because it was my chemo day and I was guaranteed to feel great, thanks to a load of steroids. Oh, and to be really hungry! Chemo is over but I still get an infusion every other Tuesday, though this week because of the holiday, it is pushed to Thursday. But Jerry and I will still go out to dinner tonight. And celebrate. Cheated death again!

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