It's also that time of year when I get to leave Cancer Purgatory. It's that place I have been so humbly living for the last three months, knowing that I may or may not be cultivating a little cancer garden in my right lung. That naughty little nodule had its come-to-Jesus moment last night when it was frozen in time by my latest CT scan.
Tomorrow morning we'll meet with my oncologist and find out which map I'll need for the next road trip in my life.
I've had three long months to process and plan out both possible outcomes. I can't say I've come to terms with the idea of going through treatment again, but given that I won't have a choice, I'm as ready for it as I'll ever be. I also can't say I won't be devastated, but at least it will be far less shocking news the second time around. Ain't that the truth!
I remind myself daily that my bad news isn't the worst news. And in terms of cancer, I do have the upper hand. What is in my lung has been there from the very first CT scan, so it's not new. It's also very, very small. And if it is indeed cancer, it is very, very slow growing.
So Friday morning, I will dress in my Spin clothes as I do every week, in hopes that I can joyfully make it to class after my appointment. I will prepare for the worst, while hoping for the best.
Nothing will really change except having the knowledge of what's inside me. I am no weaker. I am no less. I am just a girl who once had cancer. And on Friday morning, I'll know if I should change that to the present tense.