Back in mid-February, after two months of treatment with my then-new chemotherapy regimen, I reported this news from my doctor:
“'The CT scan shows the size of the lesions in your lung have decreased by half and some are no longer detected at all,' said the doctor. 'The one lesion in your peritoneum is not visible.'”
Woo-hoo. I don't have words to describe my relief and pleasure when the doctor told me that. Until that moment arrives, you wait and wait and wait, rocketing back and forth from fear and despair to confidence, then suddenly the answer is right there, right now, and in this case, it was spectacular.
Now, an additional two months have passed and it is time for another CT scan next week. I thought the wait period, having been through it before, might be easier this time, but no. As the date gets closer, I worry. I don't seem to be able to control that, but I do my best to enjoy these good days I'm having.
In a week or so, I'll have the new CT scan results. On my best days I believe the new pictures will be a repeat of those in February. Meanwhile, however, excuse me while I go worry. (I know I'm being an idiot but there is a little part of me over in a corner of my brain who believes worry is a requirement for making good things happen.)