So I think it's finally sunk in.

Not really. That was a complete lie. It really hasn't sunk in at all. I think part of the problem is that I still feel like crap. (Oops. Forgot to censor.) Marta is sitting with me right now, watching me type. (I think that she is only here so that she can nab the first post.) She just flew back from the Bahamas and, while talking to her and catching her up, I started to feel a little guilty for not blogging for 2 days. I really did think that it would sink in sooner. I mean, I was all sorts of ecstatic on Wednesday. But when I woke up on Thursday, not only did I not remember that I was supposed to be happy, but I still felt like crap. Kind of put a damper on my mood. I'll get over it.
Anyway, Wednesday was the really exciting day so I will recap that. It started off with a tense ride to medical center. Followed by a tense wait in the waiting room of the PET scan office. Followed by a needle in the arm and a shot of radioactive sugar. Followed by another 30 minutes of sitting while the sugars distributed through out my body. The technician called this percolating. He thought he was amusing. (pause) He was not.
My mother and Aunt Patty, who had both accompanied me on this little excursion, quickly discovered that talking to me, while I was this tense, was not really wise. (The technician also discovered this. But since I am not related to him, I was even less polite.) After much tense waiting, I finally went into the donut. And yes, is was just a scary as I remember it to be. However, this time, instead of lying there petrified for the 25 minutes, I got pissed off at the technician again and started thinking of creative ways to demonstrate my displeasure to him. Don't worry. I didn't follow through on any of them...For the most part.
The next hour or so was spent in tense waiting in the doctors office for my appointment. However, this time I was distracted by the incredible pain in my back. Apparently, when designing donut machines, nobody takes the time to consider those who actually have to lay in them. They are very, very hard surface. And my bones hurt anyway from the nuelasta. They don't need any help to feel worse.
I was finally called into an office, in which we waited for another 10 minutes. When Dr. Ahmed did come in, he just stopped in for a second and then ran down to check my PET results. When he came back he was yelling down the hall, "When's the party?" This was slightly confusing. I couldn't figure out who he was talking to. Another patient? A nurse? Nope. ME.
This also left me confused as I had no idea what he was talking about. Then he said that the results were fabulous. Once again, with the confusion. I was about to ask him to quantify "fabulous", but he must have seen the confusion on my face because he jumped in with, "Complete Remision" The scans came back totally clean. Nothing glowing, no active tumors. My first question was when I could stop the chemo. No such luck though. I still have to finish out the last three rounds. Even though there are no large masses, the PET does not pick up individual cells. Up the upside, he has said that we won't have to do radiation. (And there was much rejoicing. I don't see you rejoicing, people. Show a little enthusiasm. Radiation would have been bad.)
This is about the time the perm-a-grin started kicking in. I couldn't stop smiling. We talked a little about some precautions that I will need to take in the future, not the least of which is sunscreen, hats, and not overtaxing during recovery. Actually I just threw that last one in there. Maybe the family will buy it. ...Oops...I really have to stop putting my nefarious schemes on the blog. Not a great way to sneak things by them.
I also have to have scans for ...well...ever. I will have alternating PET and CT scans every three months for two years, then twice a year, then at five years I will only have to have them once a year. The next fifteen to seventeen months are the key period though. If it doesn't come back in that time there is an excellent chance it won't ever come back. On top of that, my quick remission bodes very well for the future. Apparently, being that receptive the chemo means it is less likely to reaccur.
I'm sure there are other things to tell you. Things like my siblings' rather humerous reactions when they were called. (I had to tell Carol, to tell her first graders, that they were "happy tears" as she was in the middle of a reading group at the time. And I sent Katrina back to her after school program in tears and later to be pummeled by an angry german student when Kat didn't tell her about the results right away. Erica, who had been a little weepy when she called us (for her own reasons) ended up not crying because of my news. The only stable reaction I had from a sibling was Paul. I was actually able to carry on a coherent conversation with him. Thank god for big brothers.
After the requisite number of calls to family and those I consider family, I took a nap. Then I blogged. Then I went to choir. Sort of anti-climactic for such a momentous day. I know. You were all expecting a party. Well, I still can't drink so the party will have to wait.
Finally, some peanut gallery responses.
1. To those who wish me to continue to post. (Doug, Leon, Manny) I will do so through the rest of the chemo if for no other reason then to whine about my aches and pains to people who seem to want to listen. I don't know why this would amuse, but who am I to argue. We know I love the attention.
2. To Melanie: Chocolate always counts. And I'm thrilled that Luis even knows who I am. I think it's adorable that he prays for me.
3. To the Dewketters (tee hee. I love writing that) and all those I've worked with: thank you for the support. It's wonderful to know that you were all checking in.
4. Joan: Welcome to the blog. Better late than never. Actually that's not true. With this group of people you're probably safer staying away, their a little nuts. However, on to the question. For my Mom's 60th Birthday last Sept. we all decided to go to St. John's, USVI. So. that is where I will be headed with 20 to 30 family members three weeks after my last chemo. But besides that Marta has insisted that we go to a spa when this is all over and before I return to classes. I didn't put up to much of a fight. A weekend at a spa sounds really, really nice right now.
5. I want to thank everyone for their support. And prayers. You guys are great. Between all the prayer chains and the Texas contingent, I knew I would be ok.
That's pretty much it and I really am tired, so I'm going to go to bed. Talk to you later -Elizabeth