I am feeling like the black cloud might, just might be moving out to sea.
We have Spring and later, Hawaii, to look forward to (thanks to my talented mother, Shutterfly, and all of our devoted FB friends who voted). I can now Skype with my students, thanks to the wonders of modern technology. Lots and lots of happy times.
Still. I can't help but know that the drama isn't gone forever. I feel good about planning things in the next 3 months (that's when my next scan will be). That sure beats limiting my plans to the next 3 days. I am a teacher, goshdarnit, I don't do this one day at a time thing all that well. I like to be planned. And prepared for every possible scenario. But you already knew that. And I'm sure you've figured out by now that I've matured in discovering it's impossible to be prepared for EVERY possible scenario. Cause I sure as hell wasn't prepared for this one.
I really am focused on the word remission. It feels dreamy to think it, to say it, like it can't be true. Prior to Tuesday's results, I did not permit myself to fantasize (more than once or twice) about the possibility of good news. I did not envision myself screaming from the rooftops, or sharing the news with random passersby (sort of how I did after giving birth to J). I decided it would be much more logical to think about where I would take my scan disks to get a second opinion. Or what hospital I would have my SCT. Or what I could do to survive the next 6 weeks until it was time for a re-scan to double check the bad news. I know from experience it's much easier to prepare yourself for the worst news than to be totally blindsided by it. Okay, well, I think it's easier, anyway. Dan tends to disagree. Then again, he's mostly an optimist. Me? Not so much.
|"Good health will be yours for a long time." NO JOKE.|
I cannot wait to get this port out of my chest (hopefully they can fit me in next week?) and go forth towards the direction of my life, whichever way that is. Tonight I'm enjoying the sweet taste of relief and heading off to bed.