The Story

On Friday, I declared it to be summer at my house. Since I am the teacher, principal and attendance officer of my school, I can do that. So here I sit 9:30 on the first morning of summer. One of my kids is still sawing logs in his bed and the other is totally engrossed in a Shakespearean tragedy...OK, you caught me, a Star Wars book. As I have a little free time, I felt this would be a good time to fill you in on the whole story of what has happened the last few weeks. (On the isn't my kid wonderful note, the reader has now switched the Bible for his morning devotion. Awww, love him!)

Back to my story...I finished my radiation about a month ago. I thought I would feel triumphant, like a prize fighter who just won the championship. Nope, I started crying, could hardly get out of bed and really didn't know what was going on. Aggravating the situation, Paul was completely out of sympathy. I don't mean a little unsympathetic, I mean over it, nothing left, angry at me for crying. After a week of this, a friend finally urged me to call the doctor. For me, before I call the doctor, I always read the cancer books to see if the answer is in there. These books reside in a large stack in the corner of my bedroom. Turns out that what was happening to me was pretty common. I was having a sort of post traumatic stress reaction to finishing treatment. Since there was no longer any action to do to fight the cancer, I let down the dam and all of the emotions that I had been holding back for the last year in order to be able to deal with the treatment came flying out. Also, our life was (is) unrecognizable from a year ago and I had no idea how to get it going again. In addition, I was no longer getting the constant hand holding and reassurance from the medical staff; I felt scared and all alone. Later when we talked to one of my docs, she confirmed that this is perfectly normal and happens often. She even chuckled just a little when I told her what happened. Hmm, do you think one of you wise doctor types could have warned me about this? (Note on this, cancer doctors tend to not tell patients the whole truth about what may happen. I realize this is for my own good. If the doctor told me I was going to have a problem, chance are I would self fulfill that prophecy and make a problem for myself. I get it, I just don't have to like it.)So, I spent a week weeping, a week trying very hard to stop weeping (mostly unsuccessfully) and then started to come out of it.

The next week I began the follow-up round of doctor visits that seems to dominate my calendar this month. I also had a mammogram and a blood test. Both of these came back clear and indicate no signs of cancer. Hooray!! Also very important, my liver and kidneys seem to have survived the chemo and are back to functioning normally. Hooray again! My blood counts are hanging in there, not going up much, but the doc says this can take up to a year to rebound. Yep, that's why I am still so tired all of the time. All of this was very good news and very encouraging. My oncologist also released me to get my port removed (can't wait!) and handed over some anti-anxiety meds in case of future problems.

In answer to the question of "what now?", one doctors said try to eat a low fat diet and get five hours of cardio a week. (Yikes, current post-chemo cardio = zero hours per week.) The other doctor said you need to take care of yourself, when you want to sleep, sleep. When you want to yell, yell. Hmmm, which one's advice will I follow??? In response to both of these, Paul declared it the summer of Cara. The main goal this summer is for me to rest and get better so we can get on with our life. We know God has big plans for us ahead and we can't wait to get started -- all in good time.

"And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him who have been called according to His purpose...If God is for us who can be against us?...in all these things we are more than conquerors through Him who loved us." Romans 8:28,31,37