A Raging Bore

A raging bore...which is better than being a raging boar...or boor.

Friends, my most recent CT scans have been deemed "unremarkable" in the language of medical reporting, and I couldn't be happier to be so dull.

The imaging machinery found no evidence of cancer from my neck on down into my pelvis. So. Eight weeks, and we roll again, next time with the brain, since my particular brand of cancer keeps wanting to throw parties up there, and we need to make sure no revelers are setting up for a rave.

But seriously, it feels impossibly silly to crow about my good news in the face of our current national meltdown, eh?

Despite the ill-effects on my mental health, like normal folks, I've been following the news, which recently has been way more important and way more interesting than my scans. But not interesting in a good way. As wonderful as things are inside my body, and as grateful as I am for that—for all the prayers answered and all the medical science that went into keeping me in good shape on the inside— things on the outside of my body are looking pretty grim. 

America, we have a problem. That problem is us.

We know the root cause of it, going back to the very first time a European brought an enslaved person from the continent of Africa to the Americas, believing humans could "own" one another. Or more precisely, that white people could "own" black people—and force them into labor to enrich white people. It was a fucked up idea then, and we continue to fuck up now when it comes to matters of race and justice.

Our country was founded with the evil of slavery already in place. And despite a war supposedly fought to end it, and laws written to bring all people justice and harmony, we are reminded every day that we still live in a country intensively and hatefully divided.

Unfortunately, much of the current leadership is not up to the task of bringing us together. Speaking of boors. The person whose job it is to lead—to be a model of citizenship, fairness, and good sense—sits tweeting madly on his throne about non-existent conspiracies. (Has anyone seen The Madness of King George? About King George III? Remember how that turned out for him?) We can expect nothing good from Washington.

Oh, and don't get me started on the ideological schism over who wears a mask and who doesn't? What is this...The Watchmen?

People, it's up to us. Up to us to call out racism in ourselves and when we see it in others. It's up to us to be kind and smart. It's up to us to stop racism, violence, injustice, coronavirus, a tanking economy, environmental devastation, general rudeness, and lots of other shitty things I've left off this list. Oh, and cancer. All. At. Once.

No wonder the country is having a meltdown. No wonder I am. See! A complete, raging bore.

So folks, this is all I've got: For God and Country, or just Country if you're an atheist (which is FINE by the way, no judgement here) mask up. We've got some voting to do.

AND...WE'RE...

 

That's what the doctor and the NP said about my most recent CT scans. In other words, we've got continued clear scans two months out from combo chemo, no evidence of disease in the chest, abdomen, or pelvis. In other words, as far as we know, our crapshoot of going with a combination oral/infusion treatment for which there is no actual protocol nor much research data has worked to push cancer far enough back into my molecular being that it is undetectable by any tests, at least from the neck down. We'll find out what's happening in the brain with scans in March, but things seem to be okay up there so far (no symptoms). Of course we won't call this response to treatment a "cure" because the disease is metastatic, and there's a good possibility of recurrence, but it doesn't hurt a girl to wish that if the cancer cells decide to mutate again, it will be into something harmless.

Gratitude, gratitude, gratitude for all the prayers, good wishes, and adorable animal videos. I love science and the people who practice it (thanks docs, nurses, techs, researchers, acupuncture, massage, yoga, and Al). I love faith and the people who have it (and those who don't). I love my family and friends for walking through this minefield with me, carrying me when necessary, unasked, because that's just what they do and how they are made.

In the meantime, I'm back on a full dose of lorlatinib (oral chemo), which means: neuropathy in my hands, sludge in my brain, and uncontrolled weight gain (again). So if I seem a little aphasic in conversation as I try to find words, if I'm horribly forgetful and tell you the same story again and again, or don't show for an appointment, and if I seem to be suddenly QUITE LARGE since the last you saw me, it's the lorlatinib folks. Hey, it's that or letting the cancer run rampant. I'll take a little forgetful roly-poly any day over that.

With further grace, a continued period of stability will allow me to do a few things I've been looking forward to: 1) spending time with my far-flung peeps, 2) leaving the country a few times in the coming election year to get a break from the current White House administration's corrupt abuse of people like me and those I love 3) advocating for others with lung cancer 4) writing about the interesting folks I get to meet along the way. 

We. Are. Good.

And profoundly grateful.