And That's That

The news is good after 2 1/2 years of waiting. No more cancer.

Uh, Buh-bye.

A few weeks ago I had my cancer testing done, a round of injections that gave me a run for my money. Translation: I felt super crappy for two weeks. Nothing like the original cancer testing and treatment, but still not fun.

I had to wait two whole weeks to get the results. Visions of another round of radioactive iodine went through my head again. In the last few years, I've already endured 4 surgeries and procedures as a result of the first dose, let alone the pre-radiation fun where my thyroid was ripped out of my neck. I sure as heck didn't want to go through another dose. Who knows what that would do to me.

I pummeled my doc with a thousand questions after she gave me the news. Am I at a greater risk for other types of cancers? Will my kids get it? Can it resurface? 

The answers: No. Probably not. And rarely.

I breathed a sigh of relief and learned I would not have to do anymore testing for five years. Five years! Woo-hoo! I barreled out of there with a 2 1/2 year load lifted off my back.

I have to admit, it didn't last long before I started crying on the way home. I know my cancer journey has been a drop in the bucket compared to others. I started thinking about those that endured much greater hardships and then about those who lost their lives. Just like I was thrust into the autism community, I also have a new found awareness of the cancer community and the desperate need for better solutions. Let's make sure there is help and funding available for our littlest fighters by signing a petition for funding. It just takes a few minutes. https://stbaldricks.capwiz.com/stbaldricks/issues/alert/?alertid=61990546.

And finally, I have to remember what my family has been through. I never went into great detail with my 6-year-old, but I think he worried anyway. It's in his nature. When I felt sick after my testing, he wrote me this note:

Thanks to Brenner for being my rock. Thanks to my kids for giving me hugs and kisses. Thanks to my mom and dad for taking me to my surgeries and helping with the kids. It takes a village to raise kids, but I guess it also takes a village to kick cancer to the curb. We did it.

Stupid Cancer

So it's February again. Time for my yearly check in to see if cancer has reared it's ugly head. I went in this morning to kick off the week long round of injections with a blood draw and injection of thyrogen, the concoction that will trick my body into thinking it has gone hypothyroid (low thyroid levels) to get a read on whether cancer might still be lurking.

As I am poked and prodded I am quickly reminded that I never actually got my all free and clear card that boasted a clean bill of health last time. After my round of injections last year, the test came back that the numbers weren't perfect, but not alarming enough to need to do anything until the following year. Most of me thinks I'm fine, but how would you like to have the devil on your shoulder for a year, whispering that you never got the ok from your doc? Yeah, not so much.

However, I count myself lucky on this World Cancer Day (http://www.worldcancerday.org/) that I really am healthy (or at least, I think I am). Just last night I attended a memorial service for a 9-year-old little boy who lost his battle with cancer just last week. Nine years old. Though I didn't know him personally like many other attendees I suspect, it would have seemed the entire community showed up to say goodbye. I guess they are all as mad as I am that cancer has to be such a deadly killer.

I winced this morning at being stabbed in the arm and at the sting of the injection that followed, but thought quickly about how scary that would have been for a child fighting cancer. Not only a needle here and there, but much more and much worse, I am sure. It's a tragedy in every sense of the word.

So here I am waiting for two more weeks. Two weeks to when I am hopefully given the news that some families don't get: the all clear to move on with my life. Or move on for now, at least. I'm hoping it goes that way, because another round of radiation treatment could wreak that much more havoc on my body than the first round already did.

So today I am thankful that I still have my chance, but I am remembering those who don't. I have mentioned SuperTy, Ty Louis Campbell, the 5-year-old who lost his battle with cancer in October, and his wonderful mom who has launched the TLC Foundation to fight pediatric cancer. Here is a picture of his brother standing up for him.

You can read more about Ty in his mother's blog at http://www.superty.org/. This is Ty and his superstar mom trying to do what she can to fight this cowardly disease to avenge her son's death, her words (perfect words if you ask me). Maybe we can help her.

And finally, we need do more than hold out hope in finding a cure. I know we don't have a cure, but take a look at the 2008 documentary Food Matters http://www.foodmatters.tv/ and its compelling message on why we are where we are. I think it gives some hope. Let's have hope together. Let's stand up together.