Graph of Past Results

In cancer treatment, there are tons of numbers. Test results and measurements of all kinds. And there is attitude. And sometimes I feel I can no more affect the attitude than the numbers. And. I feel gratitude for the way I feel about treatment and cancer, because I know it is grace.

Five days after treatment, I’ve got a slight case of insomnia. I’m wide awake. At 2:30 a.m. Some part of me wonders if my brain is fighting back against the chemo. There’s no worry or fretting, no “dark night,” just active active brain.

I end up wondering what ever happened with that last blood marker, the CA-125, which should be posted online by now. I open my medical file, but it isn’t there. So I look at the last number, which was high but not as high as it has been at the past. The marker becomes less useful in treatment — it is a sign that the cancer has returned or is active, but once it is above the (healthy) 35 threshold, it doesn’t matter if it is 60 or 600. Bodies react differently to the disease load. That’s one reason I forgot even to look for the latest number.

Instead I click on a Graph of Past Results. It goes back to my last round of treatment, which took place January-June 2019. And I smile.

Yes, I see how that number shot up between September and November. I orient myself to the scale of the graph.

What I’m smiling at is that March-July result. While it was happening, I was frustrated, because I wanted to go right on down into remission again. But now when I look at it my thought is, “Damn, I am good at fighting cancer.” That is actually what I think. It isn’t a mantra or “self talk.” It comes unbidden.

Look how we cut that number down.

I remember my unhappiness in March when the number went up, not down, though I was told it was not “significant” and marked “stability” and therefore success of the treatment. And again, that blip in April, not significant.

Five days after treatment I am coming out of two days of being “slammed,” those glaze-eyed, puffy days I ride out the chemo. I say it is like being put into a different body and thrown into a surreal world.

Now, awake, writing, I see again that this, too, will be manageable. And I’m relieved and happy. It is winter, and there is no need to go anywhere or do anything at all for two more days of the annual holiday break.

Sunday is the Feast of Epiphany. The Kings arrive, trees come down, and I’ll bless the lintel. Epiphany is God revealed. Immanuel is God with us. This season is the season of God revealed with us. I am an epiphany person. I love all the epiphanies — not just the three kings but also the Baptism and Cana. All the ways we celebrate God revealed with us.