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Netflix has made me hate waiting. I’m now used to knowing what happens immediately. The idea of waiting a week to find out what happens to Jon Snow or Rick from The Walking Dead is horrifying. I hate it so much that sometimes I’ll just let episodes build up, like three or four at a time, so I can just watch them and not have to wait and wonder.

Life does not work on Netflix’s schedule. Life doesn’t allow for binging. I got my MRI and CT scans done on Saturday and had to wait until today to get the results. If you think waiting to see what happened to Daenerys’s dragon is tough, try a cliff hanger involving the cancer in your lymph nodes.

We got up early this morning to go get treatment number 9 and to get the results. I love being up that early. Of course the getting up part sucks. Not to be dramatic but when the alarm goes off my first thought is, “Why have you forsaken me!” Once I am up, however, it feels magical. The sky turning from black to dark blue. The orange sun peaking out at the edge of the sky. I feel like part of a special club. I feel like the day is letting me in on its secrets.

Jaimie does not share my love of the morning. The only thing that gets her up that early is the thought that she can sleep again as soon as we get in the car. And that’s what happened. My mom and I in the front seat, drinking McDonald’s coffee, while Jaimie was passed out in the back seat with her sweatshirt and matching neck pillow.

And to be honest, considering I had spent the past two days watching videos and reading articles about LITERAL NAZIS, I welcomed the distraction. I guess I just don’t understand why certain white people feel the need to protect this part of our history. It’s the worst thing we’ve ever done. Lie about that shit! Cover it up! It’s embarrassing! I can’t look at a porn site without erasing my browser history immediately afterwards and here people are, just acting all proud and shit about the Civil War. That’d be like me bragging about that time I got arrested or almost failed Geology. Sweep that shit under the rug!

All morning I felt oddly calm. I felt oddly calm as I was stuck in traffic. I felt oddly calm as I was sitting in the examining room. I felt oddly calm as the nurse practitioner knocked on the door and came in the room.

Most people think, “Why me” when bad things happen. I’m the opposite. I think, “Why me” when things break my way. Why was I born into a family that loves me? Why have I gotten to pursue the things I love. Why have I been blessed with friends and love and laughter. Why me?

So when the nurse told me the scans were good, that the lymph nodes were still shrinking and that we can start to think about switching to maintenance treatment sometime next month, my first thought was, “Why me?”

Why is it working for me and not so many others?

Why have I handled to treatment so well?

Did I do something to deserve it? Or, even more mind blowing, is it just grace?

We had a few questions and after she answered all of them, she left the three of us in the room. We breathed a sigh of relief. “This is good news, right?” I said, almost afraid to believe it. “It’s really good news,” Jaimie said, visibly relieved.

So round two scans are good! I didn’t have much time to celebrate as I immediately went downstairs to the infusion center. The last of the Oxaliplatin is dripping into my veins and I feel like shit. But for the first time since January, there seems to be a light at the end of the tunnel.

So why me? It’s got to be for some reason, right?

I guess I’ll have to wait around to figure it out.

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