95%

That's about where I'm at in terms of how I'm feeling. Most things are functioning normally. Only two residual side effects: digestive system has yet to find its groove and I wake up every morning with really stiff, painful hands and feet.

It may be that 95% is as good as its going to get.

It may be that 95% is as good as anyone ever feels.

We're coming up to the anniversary of my diagnosis. So I'll be having mammograms and a consultation with Dr. Bader at the end of next week. I have to say I'm quite anxious about this, although the likelihood of anything having recurred are less than general population at this point. Its probably just that I don't want to find out how much I weigh......

Two Countries Divided By A Common Language

Just back from first visit to the UK post diagnosis. It was very interesting how my British family and friends approached the subject of my health. Most asked me how I'm feeling, said I looked good and that was it. With one exception, perhaps: I'm sure my friend Caroline would have liked to hear more were it not for her needle phobia.

My American friends and family, in contrast, like to get deep into the detail of the whole process.

I'm sure both groups are equally curious, its just that the British are too polite.

I don't mind either way.

Separately, I think I've managed to pack back on every single pound lost since treatment began, due to the endless celebrating both in the States and across Europe.

But who cares? Life, as we know, is too short.

Hair

I've had a few strangers compliment me on my hair arrangement of late. Initially I responded by explaining that its more of a "grow back" than a "cut." Friends who overhear and who (clearly) know the deal have exclaimed (explained) outright that I have cancer. But I'm finding its easier (of course) just to thank the compliment-ers. It's nice. I may keep this "do."

Blog blog blo bl.....

Its cold and rainy in Portland, Oregon. We just hiked with the dogs through Forest Park - about four miles. I was soaked to the bone but its so nice to be able to get out there and do it, in spite of the stereotypical Portland weather (perhaps even enhanced by it.)

In a short while, I'll be off to do an advanced Pilates class on the Reformer.

And later this afternoon I'm going for a swim at my swanky gym that I don't use enough (the venerable Multnomah Athletic Club.)

From all this you'd think I'd embarked on a rigorous work-out regimen. But, in truth, I get this motivated maybe one day a week. I need to figure out something a little more frequent, n'est-ce pas?

Chest scar all cleared up so no more antibiotics. And, in theory, no more doctor appointments until May.

Minimalism

This week Dr Urba recommended, and I agreed, to a minimalist approach to follow up. Now, I kinda had this conversation with Dr. Bader already, but Dr Urba brings a more academic viewpoint to the discussion.

Some people prefer blood draws at regular intervals to test for indicators that the cancer is coming back or already present. This may be reassuring at some level, but can cause extra stress as one waits for results and there's high risk of a false positive (and subsequent debate and distress over need for treatment.) The minimalist POV starts from the premise that there's no cure for cancer, only miserable treatment. So why not wait until you know for sure that you actually have it before embarking on another course of misery. Ergo self exam, annual mammograms and a visit with one of my team (Bader or Urba) once every three months for a couple of years.

Makes sense to me.

In other news: chest scar still infected so am now on antibiotics and going back to see Dr. Lim tomorrow to deal with these non-dissolving dissolving sutures.

Errrr.....

These two jokers clearly enjoy wreaking havoc while we're out of the house. What you see here is the remains of a decorative pillow. We'll be vacuuming feathers for years to come I fear.

I have a follow-up appointment with the oncologist on Monday. It occurred to me earlier this week that I should probably get blood drawn to make sure my insides are fine post chemo. So I called them and they agreed. Another good example of the "I'm my best advocate" principle.

Separately (and yuckily) on review of my port scar last night, I realised it was infected - one of the dissolving sutures hasn't dissolved. So, because I'm ROCK HARD, I actually managed to get most of the offending suture out myself. I'll leave the rest up to the nurses on Monday.

And this is me

Why are my eyes closed? Can't speak and look at people at the same time?

Anyway, here I am at the lovely party thrown for me by my dear friends to celebrate the end of treatment. I'm so grateful to have such wonderful people in my life.

See what I mean about the hair? I mean, its not bad, right?