All those things  I did for today’s appointment, except the last thing.

Barring a recurrence, I’m not coming back to Dr. Rajguru. 

I’m officially cured of lymphoma.

Cancer’s severity is often described in 5-year increments. Odds are calculated in terms of survival 5 years after diagnosis. And although the kind of cancer I was diagnosed with in March 2019 — diffuse large B-cell lymphoma — tends not to come back if there’s no sign of it 2 years after completing chemotherapy, Dr. Rajguru was waiting 5 years to declare me cured.

Actually, he fudged a little. The 5 years are supposed to toll from the COMPLETION of chemotherapy, which in my case was July 23, 2019. 

But my bloodwork is clear. I don’t have any bumps or lumps on my neck or in my groin. My appetite is fine. I’m not having night sweats.

No need for a PET scan to prove I’m free of lymphoma.

I am allowing myself a heartfelt “hallelujah!” 

I plan to celebrate by sharing a pizza with Jay.

And as fond as I’ve become of Dr. Rajguru, saying good-bye to him is a cause for celebration. 

BUT…

I can never be truly “cancer free.” No one can, once they’ve been diagnosed with any form of malignancy. Even if you go decades without a hint of recurrence. Even if you end up dying of something other than cancer. 

It isn’t just because cancer is a sword of Damocles, with a possibility of coming back, or showing up in a different form (as happened to me; my breast cancer was diagnosed on a Friday the 13th in November 2020.)

It’s because cancer changes the people who get it. A cliche that “cancer doesn’t define you”‘isn’t exactly true.  My diagnosis didn’t comprise all of who I am, or even my principal defining characteristic. But it is, and always will be, part of who I am.

That’s why I will stay active in Gilda’s Club as long as I’m able, even if I am declared cured of the breast cancer and never again diagnosed with any kind of cancer.

Cancer changes those whom it touches. And people touched by cancer need each other — not necessarily to sit around and swap chemo stories and share tips on lotions for radiation burns, but mere presence. We are truly part of a club, even though none of us sought membership.

Cancer, at least lymphoma, is part of my past.

Then again, it never will be.

But I can be thankful. And happy.