You Never Know Until You Know

I was really expecting to hear I was going back into chemo today. The last exam showed that the level of cancer in my body had neither fallen nor risen. The oncologist had told me that if there was even a slight rise, I’d go back into treatment.

But today, the oncologist told me the level of cancer had fallen. Not by a miraculous amount but enough to be significant, and to allow us to continue to be cautiously optimistic about the future.

I was okay with the idea of going back into chemo. It wasn’t exactly how I’d have chosen to spend the holidays but it could be worse. Besides, I have Ultra Hats for all occasions. Anyway, Chris and I were prepared; our upper lips were stiff, Blitz spirit, all that.

And instead, we get good news. We’re a bit stunned but hey, we’ll take it!

Now we’re back home. I’ve told Chris he can collapse for the rest of the day. Me, I’m going to get back to work-work-work-work-work-work—I’ve got a lot of work—although I think I’ll have a generous shot of Monkey Shoulder whisky to go with it.

So that’s today’s life lesson, friends and neighbours: you never know until you know and it ain’t over till it’s over. Every victory, even a small one, is a gain and if you pile up a whole lot of small victories, you just might end up with a big one. But don’t wait—celebrate each small victory as you go. You can still have a big party later.

Don’t mind me. I’m dizzy with relief. Did I mention it was good news? I did, didn’t I?

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41 thoughts on “You Never Know Until You Know

  1. Normally I’d say ‘bloody marvellous ‘ , but this feels as if it deserves a little extra, so, pardon my French… Fucking marvellous! X

  2. I’m so happy for you. Unfortunately my friend Julie Klein succumbed to a leomyosarcoma met in her lungs last Monday. I know you are cherishing your time, Thank you for being you.

  3. Woot! I’m so glad to hear this, Pat!!!❤

    I wish my Dad had gotten a result like yours. On 5 Sept, he was told that it looked like he had some tumour in his lung. My Dear Ol’ Dad passed on 14 Oct of extensive metastatic cancer in his lungs, bones and, finally, his brain. He was one of my best friends of my life and I’m having a tough time dealing. 😪

    I am so pleased to hear that someone I care about is beating that shit. We need to wipe this shit off the face of the planet.

  4. I’m so sorry to hear about your dad. There are a lot of ways cancer can sneak up on a person and you would think there’d be more of a sign of something so advanced but there are many cases when that bastard cancer manages to skate under the radar until it has become extremely serious…and lethal.

    My hope is that I can last long enough for immunotherapy to kick cancer’s ass. Or viral therapy. I’ve heard they’re very close to human trials. I told my oncologist to consider me a volunteer for anything that might be appropriate.

    Thirty-three years ago, my Aunt Loretta was terminal with breast cancer and agreed to participate in a drug trial. The drug didn’t save her life but it did extend it. Not a lot because she was so far gone but enough for the data collected from her condition to be useful. That drug is Tamoxifen.

    I know there’s nothing I can say that will lessen the pain of your loss. But when I was at a friend’s memorial earlier this year—a friend who died of cancer, who hadn’t even *had* cancer when I was diagnosed—Michael Swanwick said, this is the price we pay for the privilege of having someone so beautiful in our lives. That may not sound very comforting. But when I think of the people I’m privileged to have in my life, I know that I would suffer any pain as long as I could be with them.

    • You really nailed it, Pat, your way with words always gets to me, in a really good 😋!
      Thank you so much for your wondrous words and I hope so very hard that you continue to dance beyond the reach of the big “C”!
      It looks, after 24 years, as though I’ve beaten mine and I’m thinking that the amazing ideas and treatments they’re discovering now will make you nigh unto immortal.
      Love and hugs to you!
      Lorraine (AKA MommyWoman)

  5. What a relief! But egad, woman – that subject header! I had to work up my courage to open your email! You sure know how to build up suspense – have you thought about being a writer? ;^) I am so, so happy for you. I’m going to raise a glass of red to you tonight! Yeehaw!

  6. Way to go, Pat! I freaked out when I read the header — omigawd, not more chemo! — but was thrilled to find out you can actually buy green bananas. I’m going to celebrate with you today (I don’t whisky but I toke, and look forward to toking some fine weed in your honor). Much love!

    • I’m not a big whisky fan but I reallly like Monkey Shoulder. And I’m sorry, I didn’t think the header would be ominous, just ambiguous. If it had been bad news, the header would have been ‘Back To Chemo’. Or more precisely, ‘Back To The Future, Back To Basics, and Back To Chemo.’

  7. “Whoops loudly* That is fantastic news! So, so chuffed to hear it (and to meet you again properly at FCon!) Will be raising a glass of something or other to you later on when the sun is properly over the yardarm. 🙂

  8. I’m another one who took part in a trial. I’ll never know if it worked for me _ _ I’ve been clear six years now __ but hopefully it helped someone. Keep looking forward.

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