Cancer: The Devil Defeated

In the middle of all of this insanity comes the best good news we've had in a while: Cathy is through with her course of treatment on the Red Devil. That doesn't mean we are done with chemo, or done with cancer. Only that we are done with the horrible poison they were putting into her body for the past seven months. Or to put it another way: we're not out of the woods, yet, but the deranged mutant bear that has been pursuing us this whole time finally gave up the chase and we can take a minute to catch our breath before resuming the hike to get out of these woods.

Halloween costume idea: The World's Worst Ninjas.

We made the trip into Wichita Falls on Friday; they have reported around 60 cases of the virus, and so there were a lot of new protocols in place at Texas Oncology. Cathy had been through their screening process but it was my first time and it was a cup of water in the face; a real wake-up call and a reminder of what we're all facing. As trips go, it was pretty underwhelming, except for our snazzy new masks we were sporting, thanks to Cathy's sisters; ours even had pockets for those little filter thingies, so while it was a bit uncomfortable, I certainly didn't mind complying, since we were both in a facility that, if everything is working right, is full of patients with compromised immune systems.

We didn't celebrate this time. Cathy didn't ring the bell. We didn't go get a bite to eat and some place where we could get a beer. We both knew that we had more to do, and there was no point in celebrating with a bell ringing, since we'd be coming back in a month or two anyway, and only an asshole goes into a restaurant for a sit-down meal these days, and that wasn't going to be us.

Still, it felt great to be out from under that stuff. This second time around with chemo was hard, so hard, on both of us. We weren't prepared for it, not mentally, and certainly not physically. It kicked our ass, if I'm being honest. And Cathy needs a break from that. We can't take too long a rest, but I really want her to start feeling like herself again. Anything before we have to turn around and start putting new gunk into her body.

Two years, now. 24 months. That's how long we've been dealing with it. And I've been physically compromised for 18 of those months. I don't know what we are going to do. I really don't. But that's not what this is about.

I wanted you to know that, with everything that's going on, Cathy is going to start feeling better again in the next few weeks. It would be great if she was strong enough to be downstairs when the theater opened back up again, but it will depend on the state of the public health crisis, of course. With all of these kinds of plans, I've learned to expect the worst and hope for the best.

Everyone, thank you again. Thank you ten thousand times. For the cards, the letters, the phone calls, the emails, the generous donations and gifts. Oh, I can't begin to imagine what this would be like for people who were not as fortunate as us to have such wonderful and caring people in our lives.