This week is treatment number five. I’m a third of the way through, and that means it’s time for tests. Three to be exact: two MRIs and a CT scan. This Monday. With the results on Wednesday. I feel like I’m about to get a report card on my body. Like If I get all A’s, we are going out for pizza! If I don’t get all A’s… we’re still getting pizza because why the hell not.
I expect them to be good because, not to brag, but people can’t stop telling me how great I look. Apparently, a good way to get compliments is to get cancer and lower people’s expectations.
Now when they say it they sound surprised. That does mitigate the effect a little, but still, it’s way better than the alternative.
I guess I do look ok. The chemo is keeping my hair short, and I’ve actually gained weight because these steroids are making me ravenous. I am currently the worst person in the world to split an appetizer with. The other night was my friend’s birthday and we went out for wings. Let’s just say I wasn’t shy and demure about not taking the last one. I was like, “I have cancer, pass the blue cheese.”
But these tests… who knows what they are going to say? Is it working? Am I drinking enough water? Should I cram between now and Monday? Do a bunch of sit ups tomorrow? Def have a salad. That will get rid of the cancer right? A nice, fresh caesar?
The weird thing is that half the time I feel totally normal. During my off weeks, once the chemo brain clears away, I can convince myself I’m not even sick. That I’ve just been dramatic about this whole situation and I should have just rubbed some dirt on it and been done with it.
Like this past Thursday my girlfriend and I had a lovely date. We were in Charleston, took a long walk, ended up at Fast and French for fondue night. I’m sure we looked like the most normal couple ever, without a care in the world or a cloud on the horizon. And yet there was this thing. There is always this thing. And the more normal the night, sometimes that’s when I feel it the most.
It’s almost like I don’t want to know. If the tests are good, then maybe I’ll convince myself I’m home free and if they’re bad… well… at least there's pizza.