Hi Everyone,

Part of my remission plan is progressively reduced oncology visits over the next five years, so establishing a relationship with a great oncology team in Tennessee is just one of the things I'm proactively doing to ensure that I remain cancer free. 

Last week I had my first appointment since moving to Tennessee, and wanted to give an update because this was the longest period I've gone without monitoring. 

The morning of my appointment I woke up with anxiety.

It was a rainy, dreary day, and the heaviness on my heart was burdensome.

My mind raced-- what if the cancer returned?

I reminded myself that I could also choose to think, what if I'm healthy?

I focused on asking myself what if I'm healthy, then what?

Images of my future flooded my brain, and the mental happiness tape  I play when I imagine my dream life filled my mind, but it's almost like it was playing in the background  to the chorus of uncertainty.

I drove cautiously to the office that morning. When I approached the building, I began to see frail people getting out of cars, being ushered inside. I saw them, and I saw part of me in them.

My last infusion memory was a day that stained my brain.

I was weak and limp. I had to rest myself against my mother to stay up because I had no energy.

I was frail, thin, and felt so fragile.

I looked around me and saw people who were in the same condition.

The feelings of sorrow, of remorse, and yes even survivors guilt, welled up within me so deeply until their only escape was to stream down my cheeks.

I wore black. I pulled my hair back and adorned large gold earrings and red lipstick.

I wanted to remind my cancer who was boss.

My name was called back to the lab. One vial, then two, then three.

The familiar bee sting of a needle puncturing my vein reminded me that I'm only a handful of tests from news-- or good or bad.

I was led to a doctor's office where I reviewed my medical history with a pleasant and empathetic woman. "I'm so sorry," she said multiple times as my stories poured out.

I collected myself once she left and took a moment to think about things in the moment brought me comfort. 

Moments after her departure, a smiling man entered the room. He asked what brought me to Tennessee, and my disposition lifted. He asked me about symptoms, ongoing neuropathy, infections, all things that seemed to be haunting me even though treatment was over.

He reassured me that I'd likely be looking at managing symptoms for a year to eighteen months post-treatment, but that I'd slowly return back to normal.

He then asked what else I needed help with, and what referrals or connections he could make for me. I left with a new list of supplements, prescriptions, and referrals.

As I left the building a lightening of my load felt apparent. 

I drove to work in the rain, and thought of all I have to be grateful for.

I thought of a future I have a glimmer of, and noticed how it seems like my dreams really can come true.

Two days later I received the results of my blood test that my CEA test (which detects cancer cells in your body eight months prior to a cat scan) was in a normal range. My liver enzymes are back to normal. All markers are pretty much exactly where they should be.

As I sit here on the morning of Thanksgiving, I am absolutely giving thanks: breath in my lungs, being in the cold, feeling my hands. 

The life of my dreams, all the hopes I've ever had are unfolding right in front of me.

A year ago, life was so different. But by following my heart, I have seen how quickly things can change.

Have an amazing day my friends ❤️