Tumor markers have dropped significantly. Tumor markers dropped from 2805 to 1300. That’s a hopeful sign.
Everytime I get surprisingly good results from lab tests I fall into a fit of tears.
Maybe it’s because I’m coming off of steroids right when those results tend to come in.
Maybe it’s because there’s a relief release, a purging of pent up emotion.
Maybe it’s because hope is fucking hard.
Hope rises up and I suddenly wish I could jump up on that trampoline with my son like I did two years ago. But my burning feet and recovering toe keep me grounded on the patio.
Hope makes me grieve my lost sex life and worry when my husband comes home late from work that he’s found someone to help sooth his losses.
Hope makes me angry that my morning pride in wearing my “big girl panties” ended a mere two hours after my first chemo dose for this cycle. (Try scheduling sex around chronic diarrhea.)
Hope make me cry.
But hope also means I might see my daughter graduate from high school It means my son will have a mom for those first years of middle school.
It means that maybe there’s something more.
But it sure tears me up inside.
Hope is awesome, like a God that bestows both suffering, punishment and salvation.
And I am so grateful that I hope.