Quick health update

Originally the doctors paused chemo for the month of May, prepping for surgery. They then scheduled it for June 3, the week of Cash’s high school graduation. It would have meant I’d miss it. So we moved it to the following week (would have been June 6 - tomorrow). However, my surgeon will be out of the country for a few weeks post op. We all agreed it would be best to have him here should anything go wrong. There is no risk in waiting, so we pushed it. New surgery date is July 21. In the meantime, a few more rounds of chemo to keep things in check, then a few weeks off to recover and be ready.

Many with stage 4 never get to this place. If the cancer isn’t contained enough, doctors can’t ever operate. At the start of things, you have no idea how you’ll respond to the chemo, how you’ll tolerate the treatments, what life will look like. They had told me that without treatment, maybe 4-6 months. That first night after we received the call saying it was metastatic and stage 4, it was a big WTF? I remember crying with Billy - “Was that my last Christmas?” “Will I even see the boys graduate?” Being able to operate means being able to cut out the cancer. The focus shifts from managing cancer to curing it.

Other positive news - as part of the blood work they check my “CEA” level - the tumor marker for colon cancer. Normal range for your CEA level is 0-3. In January mine was 139. In March, it went down to 95. My blood work last week showed it at 4.3.

Bracket graduated from college three weeks ago. Cash graduated from high school last Friday. As Cash’s ceremony closed and the graduates walked off the field toward the parking lot for pictures, I had a moment. Standing in the bleachers, wearing my chemo pump in a cross body purse, I watched it all with tears streaming down my face. Cash in his gown, his easy, lanky walk. His head of loopy red curls under his cap, chatting with the guy next to him like nothing was wrong. Bracket sitting behind us with his best friend whose sister also graduated, laughing like nothing was wrong. Billy furiously taking pictures, like nothing was wrong. Wren digging through my little gold purse for a watermelon Jolly Rancher, like nothing was wrong. It was a warm, beautiful day. My friend handed me a tissue. Nothing was wrong.