I have a CT scan tomorrow, 11/18/11.
I get one every three months. I thought the waiting would get easier, but it hasn’t. Memories of the first time I heard the words “esophageal cancer” come flooding back. I expected that the upper endoscopy that had been ordered would reveal an ulcer or some other relatively benign diagnosis. I had never expected to hear that I had cancer and that the worst case scenario gave me 6-9 months to live. That was on September 2, 2008. My precious son, Matt, was standing next to me in the recovery room when those life-changing words, “You have esophageal cancer.” were spoken. Matt is a marine. He is the quintessence of Semper Fi. He tells me that I wept and wept when I heard the news but I do not remember shedding a tear. What I do remember is Matt’s solid and steady presence. Everyone should be blessed with such a son to stand firm for them when their knees are shaky and their world has shattered. Fighting cancer is a battle of monumental proportions. In 2008, I was s raw recruit. I am becoming a seasoned warrior. Matt has been a model for me and he would be the one I want next to me when the enemy fire is relentless. I still get scanxiety. I still have my faithful marine. It works. Cancer is to be lived….sometimes from scan to scan but that works too.
P.S. My scan was clean !!!!! I am rejoicing. For the first time since my metastasis, I feel that I might actually win this battle and combating cancer certainly puts one right in the middle of a war zone. It’s called living on the edge.