Well, folks, it's official! My CT scan from two weeks ago shows "marked improvement" in all areas where lymphadenopathy was found! ALL tumors were reduced by 75-90% after just THREE treatments.

So, after my 4th treatment last week, I will undergo another two chemo sessions, then redo a PET scan. If all looks clear, I will move onto radiation; otherwise, I will get 2 more treatments (total of 8), then radiation.

One of the drugs was discontinued with this latest treatment because it causes neuropathy, and the tips of 8 of my fingers are having issues with work-related tasks (and this typing!). Doc is not worried about eliminating it since my cancer has already responded so well.

I'm now on day #10 post-chemo #4 and it has been more challenging than the previous two, probably because the side effects have lasted a few days longer than expected, and that makes me nervous. 

The first few days were much the same: feeling mostly fine on day #1, with a steady decline in stamina over the next few days, but this time with more nausea than usual. That never affected my appetite, however, since I've been eating pretty much around the clock with nary a weight gain. 

I know it's most women's dream to lose weight without trying, but I never thought it would be so difficult to have to eat so often. I was not eating to keep my weight up; I was eating because I was starving constantly. Ten days later, I still am, and I've yet to gain any weight.  

As usual, I also slept well; in fact, very well. Two nights this week I slept 13 hours straight. It's obvious my body has been in healing-mode. 

I'd established after earlier treatments that after taking a massive amount of steroids for five days, my body normally collapsed on day #6, but that didn't happen this time. I was encouraged that maybe I was getting the hang of this chemo-thing and my body was compensating better than the previous three. 

Nope.

It was merely delayed, because for the next several days, I was not a happy camper. I am assuming that the drugs had little to attack since the tumors had been so significantly destroyed; instead, they were going full combat on my gut. I never got sick, but nausea settled in and made itself a permanent visitor while light-headedness was my constant companion. I couldn't stand for more than a few minutes without feeling the need to collapse to the floor from dizziness and exhaustion.

Now, this was also happening as the same time the smoke from Canada was covering our skies with a thick haze and we were being properly warned to stay indoors. Yes, this probably contributed to my overall ill health, but something else was at play: my body felt consumed by poison.

After previous chemo sessions, it was apparent that my body felt like a smoldering inferno. I could actually feel the tumors getting destroyed where parts of my body felt ignited from the inside. Days later, the smoldering feeling would waft up from inside of me as I smelled and tasted chemicals (oddly, this never deterred my appetite!). 

This time, my body never felt ignited, nor did it smolder in its own destruction. That felt like happy news, since maybe I had little (or none!) left to destroy. But the chemical aftermath was all too present, which made me leery.

Each time I tried to stand, my body seemed to rebel, summoning me to sit back down. When I didn't, I got this hot blast to my bald head that felt clammy to the touch, accompanied by a wave of nausea and light-headedness. 

My body seemed to be trying hard to compensate for the extra poison swimming around my innards by keeping me upright, but its efforts lagged. I sometimes stumbled, worried that I would actually fall. I felt woozy. A headache would suddenly appear. My thoughts felt jumbled. My words incoherent. 

This must be what it feels like to be poisoned. And I was becoming afraid that it would never go away.

This lingered for four miserable days before quietly and slowly abating yesterday, day #9. Even today, I can still feel that the reactions of my body are slower than normal, and my head doesn't feel quite right yet, but I trust that I'm resuming my normal steadfast-self. It helps me trust the process more, even though I remain worried about the next treatment that's looming just 11 days away. 

Yes, the debilitating symptoms have mostly gone away, which means my body knows how to properly assimilate the chemicals and excrete them. It means I am able to bounce back to my normal-self without any permanent damage. 

But what will the next two chemo (or god forbid, four!) treatments bring, especially as these tumors decrease in size but the amount of chemo drugs I receive do not?

I am nervous about what an over-abundance of poison in my body will find to destroy instead, and how I may be rendered more impaired than the neuropathy that tingles the tips of my fingers. 

Each time I think about this past week, my body shivers in response and nausea tickles the back of my throat. If I thought this week was tough, will I be strong enough to endure more?

But if I am to trust this process, my body, God, and even my own resilience, I must be willing to embrace all of it. 

As a Registered Nurse for 28 years, one would think that I'd be very well versed in everything related to health consciousness, especially when it comes to my body. 

But sadly, you would be wrong. 

In fact, I've always had a blase attitude about my health, most likely because I've never had to worry about it. I'm sure I've inherited this attitude from my 94-year-old mother who swears she enjoyed good health because she used to pick carrots straight from the ground, then eat them with the dirt and grit still attached. 

Of course, that was eons ago during the depression, but still. I did adopt her no-nonsense ways of looking at my health, and I'm grateful that I am the furthest thing from a hypochondriac. I am more apt to ignore a cold than to deal with it, and I don't stress about viruses, the flu, or being exposed to germs and bacteria, even as a nurse who is exposed to such contaminants (and more) daily. 

I've been blessed with my mother's good genes, which means I rarely get sick.

​It was my Chemical Engineer ex-husband who was fastidious about making sure the kids had their vitamins and antibiotics. I trusted that their bodies were hard at work healing them, just as I'd believed the same about myself. 

So when cancer appeared a few months ago, I was stunned. After all, even though I've spent my adult life not worrying about my health, I've also made wise choices on my own behalf. 

​I've never had any major illnesses; I do not ever suffer from pain (not even headaches); I never have had the flu and my colds last a day or two each year (without missing work). I delivered three babies without medication, and my menstruation and later, menopause, were uneventful and stress-free. 

I don't smoke, do drugs (never have), or drink much alcohol; I've never taken birth control pills, I don't readily reach for medication, and I get regular MD and dental check ups with good reports. I have been drinking apple cider vinegar drink every morning for several years; I switched to aluminum-free deodorant over a decade ago; I use homemade detergents/all-purpose cleaners for my house; and vinegar is my all natural cleaner of choice, even on my weeds and in my laundry. 

After a rash appeared on my face from an allergic reaction to lotion twenty years ago, I switched to an all-natural cream that is made of honey, beeswax, olive oil, and bee pollen. I've never had blemishes, acne or many wrinkles since. Many say I look much younger than my 55-year-old self. 
​
I changed jobs three years ago to a stress-free environment on purpose. My work is close to home so I don't have a stressful or long commute; I work 4 days a week so I can put ample time into working with coaching clients; and I enjoy my work, and feel appreciated and loved by the staff and residents.

I plan lots of down-time into my daily schedule--reading, writing, practicing yoga, walking, and spending time with my friends and family. I also take vacations often, even for short weekend jaunts. I own a home that is definitely my sanctuary, filled with good energy, bright colors, and belongings that bring me daily happiness. My car is reliable, and after nine years, it still feels like new. 

I have three grown children who are happy in the world as they navigate their own futures, and grandchildren who bring me great joy. I have been a Registered Nurse for almost three decades and have practiced self help for two. I am a Life Coach who believes in manifesting (I'm really good at this!), angels, God, serendipity, and facing struggles head-on with a positive slant. 

My point is this: I have been practicing healthy behaviors and habits for a very long time, and despite this, cancer still found its way in. It's not necessarily true that keeping diseases out is a function of a healthy diet and lifestyle, though these definitely increase your chances of remaining strong and vital. 

According to my Naturopath, there is also the rule of thirds when it comes to disease: "genetics play one-third, lifestyle plays another, and the final third is rotten damn luck."

So I guess this means that I have pulled the WILD card of rotten luck.

But instead of believing that my card is destined to be a negative experience (or a death sentence), I have chosen to see it as just another chapter in my life that I must face and overcome. This experience is calling me to practice patience, and execute trust that my very healthy body is capable of tackling the bigger job of getting rid of the cancer that is trying to kill me.  

After all, it is because I have been so healthy all these years that I have been able to withstand chemo with few side effects; that my body has compensated well by keeping all of my blood levels within normal ranges despite the infusion of poison every 21 days; and that my attitude has remained positive and light-hearted. 

I am not interested in what caused this cancer, and I'm only mildly intrigued that it appeared despite my healthy habits and behaviors.

What I am interested in is remembering that while life may be fragile and random, we who endure our own personal hardships are anything but fragile. We are capable of handling, and thriving, anything that is thrown our way, and we are much stronger than we give ourselves credit for. Humor and a positive outlook go a long way in keeping ourselves sane, happy, and healthy--even despite a crisis. 

It has certainly worked for me. And I intend to thrive beyond this cancer with my life, sanity, and humor intact. 
​
​