Three weeks ago I had my follow-up CT scan. Two weeks ago I got confirmation that my CT had come back clear.
I am officially CANER FREE! YIPPEE!!! Had I not been at work when I got the news I’m pretty sure I would have been weeping like a baby. In fact I’m pretty sure my dad got a little weepy when I called him.
I don’t know what was harder…waiting the first time to find out I did have cancer…or waiting this time to find out I didn’t.
You would think that sort of news would induce corks popping off of champagne bottles, or at least many rounds of drinks being bought by friends. Not for me. No I was so exhausted the Tuesday night that I got the news that all I wanted to do was go home, pop a bottle of celebratory champagne, put on my pajamas and settle in for a night of “Glee”. And that’s exactly how I celebrated being cancer free.
This past weekend, Labor Day weekend, I truly celebrated with my girlfriends in Tulsa. We had stiff mojitos and then went to see John Mayer in concert. What a fun weekend that was! We celebrated me being cancer free and my impending date with Hot Surgeon to get my port out.
The rest of the weekend was spent in Stillwater tailgating and watching football, enjoying a few drinks Sunday night with my neighbors, and overhauling the boat at Texoma on Monday. Come Tuesday I was all sorts of ready for my big date with Hot Surgeon.
Tuesday morning was spent driving home from Ada and then quickly scurrying around to find a cute outfit that would best hide my newly acquired fat rolls. Then of course there was the challenge of styling my remaining hairs in such a way as to look decent for my hot date.
God love the nurse at Hot Surgeon’s office…because she didn’t make me weigh in. She said…”oh you’re just coming in for a procedure. We don’t need to weigh you.” Hallelujah!
She has me slip off my cardigan and slip on, what can only be described as a paper towel bolero jacket. Had I had a marker I would have decorated it to look like a Spanish Bolero jacket a la John Galliano. I certainly had enough time to do so.
She took my blood pressure and said…”Oh! This is a little high today. You must be a little nervous about the procedure.”
What I said was…”Uhhh yeah. We’ll go with that.”
What my brain was thinking was…”I’m sure it has nothing to do with the fact that Hot Surgeon is going to come walking through that door any moment and I have a crush on him like every 12 year old in America has on that stupid Bieber kid.”
Then a little knock at the door and the angels began to sing as celestial trumpets heralded the approach of Hot Surgeon. And just when I thought chemo had completely killed every single womanly urge I could have…in walked Hot Surgeon with a new hair cut, those smoldering grey eyes, and that firm reassuring handshake that says “I’m going to take really good care of you today.”
Ahhhhhh….
It’s a good thing I was already sitting down because I’m pretty sure when he took off his lab coat and hung it on the door I was thisclose to fainting (or just simply turning into a puddle right there on the floor).
He leans the table back and turns on the spot light and all of a sudden I feel like I’m at the dentist…which, oddly enough, is where I was supposed to be Tuesday morning but I had to cancel him because I had a far HOTTER doctor to see (not that the dentist is by any means an ogre or anything). He proceeds to pull down my bra strap and tuck in my bolero jacket as my pulse shoots up another 20 beats per minute and I try to refrain from kicking the nurse out of the room and jumping him.
He gets me all numbed up and we’re off to the races. Within 20 minutes he has my original scar removed, the port out, and me all sown back up nice and tidy.
He pops a band aid on it, props me up and says…”Well, that’s it. You won’t need to come back in or anything. Just stay out of hot tubs and pools for the next 3 weeks.”
And I, trying my damnedest to muster all the smoldering sex appeal one can whilst wearing a paper towel bolero jacket, said…”Well Dr. Ellis although I’ve certainly enjoyed these little interludes of ours…I hope I never have to see you in this office again.”
Now at this point Elizabeth Taylor, Catherine Zeta Jones, Sophia Loren, or any number of screen sirens would have had a cute little line that would segue them into inviting him out for a drink (or back to their boudoir)…but not me. No…I just shook his hand, earnestly looked him in the eye and thanked him for a job well done. GAAAHHH!!!
Hot Surgeon: “Well…any time you’re up here come by and see us. Let us know how you’re doing and if there’s ever anything else you need let me know.”
Me: “Oh I WILL!”
My brain: “You stupid idiot! Why can’t you come up with some sort of cute thing to say??? Or even just an outburst of ‘I want your bod’! You could at least at this point still discount such an outburst to chemo-brain! You’re hopeless.”
So…much like everything else…life gets back to normal. I’m cancer free, port free, and will just have my follow up visits with Dr. Keefer for the next 5 years. I had mimosas with mom afterwards while dad went to my house to wait for the air conditioner repair guy. Life does go on and even in the midst of something as dramatic as having cancer…you see it in the little things.
Exhibit A.
Why do I have a picture of an empty mouse trap in my last blog about cancer? To show that life is big moments…and mundane moments. I have a little mousey friend who got VERY bold last night and decided to make several audacious trips through my living room while I lay on the sofa watching TV. I set two traps before I went to bed. About 30 minutes later, while I lay peacefully watching Oprah…I heard a “WHAP!!!” and a blood curdling scream. As much noise as that mouse made I felt sure I’d caught him. But I woke up this morning…giddy at the thought of catching him…only to find the trap empty.
So there you have it. The end of my cancer detour is wrapped up in a date with Hot Surgeon and an audacious mouse.
