A few weeks ago I noticed a new lump under my jaw. My doctor thought it might be a blocked salivary gland, but a biopsy revealed lymphoma. He wasn’t sure what to do next. He told me he didn’t want to take me off the trial, but he needed more information about what was happening. He might be able to add radiation to my treatment, or it might be time to look into other options. Either way, we needed to peek inside my body.

The time between his call and the test was a bit of a roller coaster ride for me. My old dragons reared their heads as I wondered what it might all mean. Having people to talk to really helped. In the past I would have held that shit tight to my chest and struggled privately. This time I opened up and people were there for me. I didn’t want to get radiation as first. Like a child stomping my foot, I fretted about it. I called my uncle who just went through radiation. He said fatigue was his major symptom. I was glad to hear he hadn’t lost his hair. I’m kinda tired of losing mine. Then he said something that really eased my mind.

“Connie… you’ve already done so much, I think this is going to be no big deal for you.” Will had said nearly the exact same thing, but hearing it from someone who was already on the other side of it, helped. It relaxed me.

Tuesday I got some CTs and a PET scan. If you’re not familiar, it’s where they inject the body with radioactive sugar to see where it gets metabolized. The idea being that cancer cells use more sugar than regular cells. They can also establish how active these areas are. On the scan it resembles brightly lit spots, like exploding stars. I got a card letting me know I would be radioactive for a day or two afterwards. I was supposed to carry it with me everywhere, especially with all the extra security because of the election. I pictured going to the airport and trying to explain why I’d set off their censors.

Wednesday, my doctor walked me through the tests. Switching from one to the other for reference. As he showed me the lymph nodes in my neck and jawline, he told me radiation could help if they localized the dose to one spot. If they tried to do too much, the risk would out weigh the benefits. However, with immunotherapy drugs they believed radiation could possibly teach my immune system how to fight the cancer. I would have to stop this treatment to do radiation, but it would still be in my body. I found this fascinating and reassuring.

He pointed out the cancer around my neck, under my arm and behind my clavicle. As he moved through the CT of my lungs, I asked him how much measurable cancer I had there. Again he switched back and forth. “Well, here’s some scar tissue, but you don’t have any cancer in your lungs.” I stopped surprised. My mouth may have even hung open. Steadily getting more excited, I asked, “What about my bones?”

“Your bones have cleared up.” Several months back my spleen had cleared too, and now I’d just learned I had no spreading of the disease outside of my lymph nodes. I may have done a tiny celebratory dance at this point. I can’t be sure as I was a bit dazed. A sense of relief washed over me and felt like he and I should be high fiving.

He put his hands out in a slight ‘settle down’ gesture as he brought my attention back to the recent growth I was experiencing, but I couldn’t get worked up about it. All I could focus on was my sturdy bones and all the fresh air I was breathing in. Having cancer suddenly didn’t feel so heavy a burden and I could finally see, in a manageable distance, the path out of the forest.

My other doctor came in. He said since the growth in my neck had been there to a much lesser extreme when I’d first started treatment it technically didn’t count as new cancer, which is an important distinction where the ‘trial gods’ are concerned. It meant I could still continue the trial with a little nudge from radiation. He said he’d had another patient do well and then experience a resurgence. Radiation had helped in that case and he thought it would help in mine.

“But lymphoma is not my specialty, so I want you to see Dr.M, the doctor you saw when you first came to NY. It’s her area of expertise. We’ve been brainstorming together, but I’d like her to have eyes on you before we move forward.”

So that’s where I’m at. Still getting treatment while I wait to get a second opinion. Still getting a kick out of my body and it’s progress. I just took a deep breath right now and marveled at it.

It’s fucking amazing and I feel blessed to be here.