Post Scan

July 28 was the last PET.  I think I'm getting good at them now.  I had to peek at the scans before I left; however indecipherable they were to me, I knew there was no new activity.  Relief was mental, emotional, and even physical.  Upwards and onwards, starting now.  I'm not holding back, I'm trying to juggle things all at once -- I feel like a dam breaking loose.  Time will tell if it was ambitious to move forward so quickly.  I feel like I should know better, be smarter in the aftermath.  Or, am I still the amateur?  If it's not the right choice, life will be that much more difficult.
July 28 was my last day in the desert. 

Recovery

Port, out! Awoke at the hairline fracture of dawn to get to the surgery center by 6:15.  It was no problem, as I am all full of warm and fuzzy feelings for my fellow LA ex-pat surgeon and his professed love of all things Cantonese.  And there is no way I can behave curmudgeonly when my favorite man takes the day off to be at my beck and call.  I know he's dedicated when he's actually conscious and ready to go before I am.  Did he even sleep??  I wish he was more relaxed; the procedure was described as under thirty minutes and something I could transport myself home from.  Hey, just install a drive-thru window, equip a latte machine, and we're good to go. 

• Local anesthesia - i.e. repeated poking by a sharp object until you don't say ouch anymore
• Port extraction - something like a tooth extraction, per the doctor
• Cauterization - he's barbequing
• Suturing - he questions aloud if it's monocryl, and I feel its raggedy texture

FYI, surgeons, quit with the running commentary when your patient is awake.  Yea, I don't want to hear how the procedure is "easier said than done" while you're struggling in my vein. 
Afterwards, breakfast (an event so rarely shared with husband), movie, and world cup.  Nice day eh?

I'mma space bound rocketship!

lumpy bumpy

I just feel silly, worrying all the time. I know there's no way the lymphoma can come back so easily. Port removal scheduled for the bottom of the month. Local anesthesia, 30 min procedure.

onemonth

Lots of phantom pain, anxiety, hypotheticals.
Does my armpit feel funny? If I'm always lightheaded, can that be a sign? Why is my right neck swollen again? Is that a node? I know it's not, but it's hard not to think it.
I see the surgeon on thursday to arrange for the port to be removed, but I'm always wondering, what if?

So considerate

Modeling wigs for my benefit.

I have the prettiest husband ever.

Land, ho!

Ahoy, mateys, this title isn't so much what the pimp says to his pilotess, but the sign that the journey's end is in sight. Now we wait two months until I am cleared to have the next PET scan, and we wait on taking the port-a-cath out. That's right baby, things are looking up.

Count it down

Second to last day of radiation! Couldn't be happier, doo-doo-doo, nothing's bringing me down these days, not even getting fat bills in the mail, not even contributing excess in my IRA that I need a notary to fix (who knew?), not even eating too many cookies ( :{ ).
I'm a proverbial clam.
Best thing is, the future is bright and imminent. Planning long-delayed honeymoon? Check. New job prospects? Check. Moving on from this? Check check check.