Thursday, January 28, 2010

Of Exhalation and Exhilaration

"Breathe. Breathe. Breathe."

Of all the advice I received over the course of the past week as to how to make it through yesterday, that is the only one I could remember.

"Breathe. Breathe. Breathe."

I couldn't always remember how to do it. Which could have been a problem. But those words would pop into my head:

"Breathe. Breathe. Breathe."

And I would.

"Breathe. Breathe. Breathe."

Earnest meditations would form on my lips, only to fade into nonsense thoughts. Prayers I have recited with fervent faith — prayers with words that I know as well as I know my own name — were stumbling around inside of me, unfinished.

"Breathe. Breathe. Breathe."

Yesterday was Mr. J's second post-chemo scan. Scan one was conducted about a month after treatment ended, in order to give his body time to begin to recover from the poisonous drip, and it was all-clear. Which was a relief. Because if any little cancer buggers had managed to grow while those hideous chemicals were killing off every other cell — well, that'd be more than scary.

So. Team Wedding made a promise. We would not live scan-to-scan. We would not live in constant fear about what rogue cells may have escaped Samuel L. Chemo. We would be grateful, hopeful — and keep looking forward.

That didn't mean we weren't — and aren't — wary. We'd be foolish not to be. Germs were not — and still are not — our friend. And to those of you who can't understand this, I have one word for you:


POISON. P-O-I-S-O-N. Poy-suhn.


When you have it pumped into your bloodstream for four months, and when you have to have a good bit of that bloodstream replaced with transfusions, or — when you have to stand aside and watch it all happen helplessly — then you can talk to me about being overprotective. We'll compare notes.

Vigilance aside, TW did a bang-up job on the positivity over the better part of the last four months. (QUICK NOTE: I have been thinking that Mr. J was six months post-chemo because this was the second "every-three-month" scan. That error — sadly — says much more about the sorry state of my math skills than it does about my state of mind.)

Until this past week. Knowing we were getting ready for the big one. Knowing that Samuel L. Chemo had pretty much left the building. Knowing that whatever little rogue buggers that were run off while Samuel L. was menacing through Mr. J's bloodstream might just come out of hiding.

And knowing that if they were to show up, the most likely time would be now.

To not worry about that? That's one big, honking, super-dee-duper dose of unwavering positivity. And to those of you who can harness that? I really do want to compare notes with you.

"Breathe. Breathe. Breathe."

I did. We did. And we waited. And we heard those beautiful, beautiful words again: All. Clear.

"Breathe. Breathe. Breathe."

I tried. I really, really, really did try. But instead, I cried. I cried. And I cried some more. Then I laughed. And I yelled. And I danced. And I sat in the bright Carolina sunshine, looked to the sky and said — over and over and over and over again:

"Thank you. Thank you. Thank you."

12 comments:

  1. Breathe, Breathe, Breathe! Good advice for everyone. Thank you!

    ReplyDelete
  2. I can imagine you did CRY!! I almost did just reading that you cried....WOW I can't fathom that journey, but I am so glad it is on an upswing that you can do a lil jig to! That's amazing and I know it has to feel GOOD!

    And thanks for the "Crush" *giggles like a school girl*

    ReplyDelete
  3. Thank you Lord!!! Oh Cat... I'm crying too. Chemo is such a difficult thing to go through, but this good news makes it worth it, right?! THANK YOU LORD! Please Lord, keep those evil cancer cells out of our bodies.
    (SCanxiety is so hard to avoid as the test date comes close, our futures are riding on those results. But you've done well to harness it to one week before. That's the only way to be. We can't give up any more than that spending our precious life worrying).
    Hooray for good news! I am overjoyed for you both!!! Celebrate friend, CELEBRATE!

    ps... my CT scan last week, 7 weeks post surgery was all clear too. I'm celebrating with you!!!

    ReplyDelete
  4. Oh glorious day!!! Wonderful news!!! I'm crying with you! Thank God!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

    ReplyDelete
  5. This is, indeed, GREAT news! I'm pulling for you both!

    Happy SITS Saturday.

    ReplyDelete
  6. All clear...so glad to hear that amazing news. You had my heart in my throat reading this....sending positive thoughts its only more good news ahead.

    ReplyDelete
  7. This post made me shiver and I'm so glad you got good news. I'll keep your family in my prayers.

    ReplyDelete
  8. Sending positive vibes your way...SITS sent me by, and I'm glad they did!

    Ode to an Inservice

    ReplyDelete
  9. FANTASTIC news :) in honor of such wonderful news, a blog award for you my dear :)

    positivity and breathing live on...

    http://belleringer.wordpress.com/2010/02/01/youre-bright-oh-but-baby-im-clever/

    ReplyDelete
  10. You just my day...my weekend, my week. Thanks for sharing the wonderful news! Clear!! Hooray!

    ReplyDelete
  11. I found your site through sister is as sister does and had no idea what I would find. I just wanted to say CONGRATULATIONS.... Yesterday, I had to buy my father a birthday card and broke down crying in the store because he too beat cancer this year and the thought hit me that just a few months ago I thought another birthday would never come for him. so I know how you feel, and shouting at the sky is only the beginning! CONGRATS!

    ~chessie~

    ReplyDelete
  12. That is so, so wonderful! I can't imagine NOT doing all of the above....cry.dance.yell.sing..and try to breathe.

    Stopping by from SITS. Happy Sharefest Saturday! Hope you are enjoying the snow :)

    ReplyDelete

I do a little happy dance every time I get a comment. Please, won't you contribute to that geeky deliciousness?

Related Posts with Thumbnails