Just got back from my more than regular gynaecological appointment and am pleased to announce that after a swab, a feel, and a full review of my history for the past five years, my doctor has made a very important statement in my medical file:
I am cured.
Whoo-hoo! Fuck off, Cancer. I’ve beaten you. 😀
Thinking about it now, I wish I’d asked to take a picture of the words on the page since I don’t remember exactly what he wrote down. Something about the stage of the original cancer and yadda yadda yadda. I was in a daze watching him mark the file with his pen.
Splitting hairs, the anniversary of my surgery is in March, but there is no reason to believe that any group of cells has a countdown going in some microscopic day planner somewhere deep within my body, so let it be five years if my doctor says it is, dammit.
I never had any doubt I would beat cancer and I kind of surprised myself by shedding a tear when I shared the news with Neil. We’re going to go for a Costa Coffee to celebrate. In March, I think I’ll be sending a thank you card to my surgeon in Wisconsin and Neil and I will likely celebrate the actual surgery anniversary with a dinner out.
It’s strange- for the first time in five years, I will be going to the gynaecologist once per year like normal women instead of up to quarterly. That’s pretty cool.