Cha Cha Cha

This week, six years ago, I had my last chemo. It seems like a lifetime ago. My check-ups have gone from every month, to every three months, and now to every six months. A big Woo Hoo.

Also, just about this week two years ago was when I got hit by a bus in London. I went from not being able to walk or use my arms to where I am now-- walking with a cane and even driving a car. I'm back volunteering at the shelter and taking Pilates.

A couple of weeks ago I starting getting pretty bad heartburn, which I had six years ago. It led me to a gastroenterologist who ultimately diagnosed my ovarian cancer. So when it returned, I made an appointment with a gynecological oncologist who scheduled a CT scan.

The good news was there was no ovarian cancer recurrence. The not so good news, or should I say the up in the air news, was that the CT scan showed a mass in my bladder. A small mass-- only about a half inch-- but a mass nonetheless.

Today I saw a urologicsl oncologist. I was hoping he was going to say the mass was "nothing." No such luck. He was the one who called it a mass. Not a cyst. A mass. He scheduled me for a cytoscopy on June 25, and he sent me downstairs to have a pre-op exam.

After waiting for more than an hour I asked if it would be much longer, as I had a PT appointment across town in the afternoon. When I couldn't get a definitive answer I decided to reschedule the pre-op and head home, pretty upset.

But saving grace was physical therapy. Have I mentioned how much I love my physical therapist? Yes? I know I have mentioned it countless times, but it always bears repeating. Meghan, like my Pilates teacher Brianna, works with ME. There is no cookie-cutter formula with either of them. They gear the session to my needs, and we progress at my pace. I lead the dance.

In addition, while at PT I saw my oncologist. Deb is slowly having all of her parts replaced. She has had both hips replaced and last week she had a knee replacement. She wants me to keep her informed and just seeing her lifted my spirits.

The next few weeks are not going to be easy. I know I will spend too much time with Dr. Google reading about bladder cancer. And I will spend too much time worrying. I had only about a week between my ovarian cancer diagnosis and surgery, so I didn't have nearly as much time to obsess.

The next few days will be particularly difficult because starting Wednesday I begin a two-day prep for a colonoscopy scheduled for Friday. So I will be at home not straying far from the bathroom. So no shelter, no Pilates, no physical therapy.

But tomorrow I will cuddle kitties at Barcs, and tomorrow evening Jerry and I are going to a wine dinner at Black Olive, one of our favorite restaurants.

The next couple weeks will not be easy, but I have to keep in mind I've survived a hell of a lot these past few years. And if it turns out I do have cancer, I know how to be in charge and manage my care.

After all, it's my dance.

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