My evil twin

Radiation is a different beast entirely from chemotherapy. Well, hardly a beast compared to chemo for me but an interesting, humbling experience nonetheless. I'm glad to be back at the national cancer institute - where it all began - and I'm even happier to be nearly closing this chapter of my life. Whereas chemo was four to five hours every other week, radiation is every weekday for 20 minutes. On the bright side, it's a bit closer to home than the other hospital and the most of the route is through a park. Dane and I take advantage of this by walking. One hour walking each direction adds a lot of time for such a short appointment but it also ensures solid daily exercise and allows me to be a couch potato the rest of the day.  Can't complain rolling out of bed for this... The radiation itself takes ten minutes max and you don't feel a thing. I lay topless on a bench with my arms above my head and my head fastened tight to the bench by a special mask to k...

"Your scan is clear." That's how the hematologist-oncologist presented the news before we were even able to sit down in his office. Just like ripping a band-aid off, yanking the tension out of the air before carrying on with conversation. Dane lit up and I essentially went into standby mode. The doctor went on: no activity to be found on the PET scan, Deauville score 1, full metabolic remission. There was already tentative evidence of a good response to the chemo - my twin turned squishy and I no longer had any alcohol pain or itching. At the same time, my doctors had made clear time and time again that a bad interim scan isn't the end of the world: there are several alternative treatment options that, while heavier on the body, have similar success rates. I balanced these two ideas in the week between the PET scan and the doctor's appointment to prepare myself for any outcome as I tried to focus on recovering from the latest chemo treatment as opposed to someth...