Remission

THIS IS THE LETTER MY DOCTOR WILL BE RECEIVING NEXT WEEK ALONG WITH A CARD.

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July 21, 2010


Dear Dr. R-----:

This note is from the “groovy girl” who has brought you decadent treats during her last three cycles of chemo…

Today you said that words that have affected me more than anything you’ve said to me in the last six months, “You’re in remission.” I knew that would be the case, but hearing the words from you still stunned me. You’re very lucky I didn’t grab and hug you as was my first instinct. I saved you from awkwardness by reminding myself that you most likely appreciate your patients better under anesthesia. I don’t think it is because you’re afraid to connect with your patients, but because it is easier to deal with the facts of science and lab results rather than the emotional product of your findings and treatment options. The cerebral part takes over because it is what helps cure your patients. This was good because I didn’t need you to coddle me. I needed concrete facts to distance the emotional side as well.

At 39, I never expected to have cancer. Who does, right? I have approached my cancer with a project plan so I could keep the focus on what I needed to do to have minimal side effects and how to manage my energy each day. There was also an edict to my family and friends that I would go through everything with humor. That is where being “chemo sexy” and living the “glamcer (glamorous cancer) life” have come from. Even my chemo sessions were “happy hours” because you gave me “chemo cocktails”. The cute names do not by any means diminish the gravity of cancer, but they sure make it more bearable and less frightening. To me, it is what is so why not make it fun? Why be boring? Other people have ‘boring’ covered. You don’t even know the half of the crazy things I came up with to cope. Even my eight-day hospital stay was fun with tons of visitors, cello player, visiting pets and caring expert medical staff! Spending my 39th birthday in a hospital bed was not bad at all.

The first day I met with you was the same day I had my pre-op. A nurse in pre-op said you were chosen for M------. That gave me comfort that I would be in good hands. Nothing like a rock star oncologist, eh? Don’t blush. Your other nurses like you and tell on you. That’s how I knew you loved chocolate. They also said you were a runner which made me feel confident to bring you treats that you could work off. Ha! Besides – I thought how different would it be if your patient gave you something other than a look of apprehension as to how she is progressing.

What am I trying to say with all this? Sometimes doctors do not get a sense of a patient’s real thoughts especially with the quick clinic visits. Getting into my mind involves a few martinis and a bucketful dirty jokes. Once again, I have spared you. Well, good doctor, I want to say thank you for saving me. Thank you for helping me reset my life. I intend to live it with more verve. The serendipitous way I came to M------ is a testament as to how much I am wickedly blessed. You are one of those blessings. I am so lucky!

While I have enjoyed the Brazilian you’ve given me through chemo, I have not liked the Skinderella/Baldilocks hairstyle or the eyelash suicide. So until I see you again for my three-month visit, I am focusing on growing hair.

Thank you,
Sarah

PS Thanks also for saying the toast to my health and favorable CT scan right before my last cycle of treatment. It worked!
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Yes, my lovelies -- I am in remission. Thank you for support and prayers. Every little bit helped me heal. xxoo

Remission