As many of you know, we’ve been dealing with a ton of you-know-what the last couple of years or so. Our son, our dog, my husband’s cancer diagnosis, and my dad’s estate and its accompanying b.s.
On Friday, my husband went in for his follow-up CT scans. I spent the weekend freaking out and worrying incessantly. Nothing seemed to faze him, although I’m sure he spared the whole thing a fleeting thought or two.
Finally, thanks to the holiday weekend, I got the call from the oncologist on Tuesday afternoon: all clear. Basically, this means no signs of metastatic disease, which is, of course, when the cancer has metastasized and spread to other areas.
Kidney cancer – which chemo and radiation do not treat – has a nasty way of showing up in the lungs, liver, brain, and bones. And, of course, his remaining kidney. Thank God, there are no signs.
Of course, in three more months we have to go through this again, but at least for two months I can relax a bit. I’d say that my husband could too, but he, apparently, isn’t expecting it to ever show up again. And I pray he’s right.
Oh, and I put my foot down – NO MORE tests done on Fridays, especially over a holiday weekend. You know this whole thing started over Memorial Day. Sigh. Too stressful.
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