It has been almost six month since my last chemotherapy
treatment. My two post-chemo follow ups
have been positive with a steady CA125 and no evidence of disease. I remain in remission. One would think that I
would be relieved and that the ever present cancer consciousness would begin to
fade, if only slightly.
Instead, I feel much like a porcupine who finds herself
trapped in a balloon factory, afraid to move for fear of a balloon falling, landing
on a quill, and popping exposing me to the dangers of what comes next. Every
new abdominal/back ache and pain is a falling balloon. Every bout of exhaustion another balloon. Each
new lump or bump yet another balloon and every blood test a potential “Pop!” I would very much like to run from this
balloon factory – through the doors and into the sunlight without ever looking
back – but I cannot run.
The best I can do is to make my way, so very slowly, three
months at a time for the next two years (and then at a slightly more accelerated
pace), until five years from now when I can once again roam free. Though the thought
of being trapped in the balloon factory will no doubt remain with me for the
rest of my days, I hope never again to see another balloon.
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