Good News!

On Tuesday, I had my first visit with my oncologist since beginning all the drugs and getting radiation.  When you're on heavy-hitting drugs, I guess they want to check in on you to make sure the help is outweighing the potential side effects.  I was also supposed to receive my second injection of Xgeva, the iron bones drug.  There are a couple of fun things to report:

1. The last time I got my shot, I just went back in a little room and got my injection.  This time, however, I got the full chemo patient treatment.  I was back in one of the rooms I had been treated in before, which brought back a lot of not-so-great memories, but this time I discovered that the chairs have heat and massage!  Did the chairs have those options four years ago and I never noticed??  Sad!  I immediately activated the heat and massage, fully reclined the chair, and even scored a heated blanket.  I wasn't going to be there long, just long enough for the Xgeva to come to room temperature, but you might as well enjoy what you can! 
2. When it was finally time for my injection, the nurse came to evaluate my arm in preparation for sticking me.  My left arm is always out because I had lymph nodes removed on that side, so the right was the only option.  However, the nurse's expert conclusion was that the muscle in my arm was big, so identifying a fattier place to put the injection would be better.  I have a BIG ARM MUSCLE!  Ha!  Who knew?!  You may call me Popeye from now on. 

   

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It is a strange thing to visit a cancer center, especially as a younger person.  I always feel like people are staring at me, wondering what I'm doing there, and judging me for taking up an appointment slot when clearly I am fine.  This is one of the difficulties with metastatic cancer: even though you're dying inside, you don't look sick.  Even people who know what you're going through sometimes forget when they always see you chipper or put-together.  They forget to make allowances for the fact that you're fighting for your life at the same time you're trying to live it.
As I sat waiting to get my injection at the infusion center, I was overwhelmed by the number of people there, waiting for treatment.  Every chair was full.  I felt so sad at the enormous brokenness.  People who think our race is ever-improving have never visited a cancer center, have never thought about the fact that every city has its own cancer center, equally full.  This world is not what it should be, what it was created to be, but redemption is coming:

"Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. And I saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, 'Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and God himself will be with them as their God. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.' And he who was seated on the throne said, “Behold, I am making all things new” (Rev. 21:1-5).

While I wait for my new dwelling place, God allows me to see glimpses of glory and restoration.  I found that this week in the form of test results.  Just before I left work on the day of my appointment, I got a phone call from my doctor.  He said he had good news this time - the tumor markers they had checked at my appointment had come back and ARE IN THE NORMAL RANGE!  The main tumor marker has dropped from 120-something to 20-something and the second tumor marker also dropped to normal!  The drugs are working!  The moment after getting that news was one like those I've read about in books but never experienced, where you find yourself letting out a breath you didn't know you'd been holding.  Sweet, sweet relief.  Thank you, Jesus.