The All Clear Siren

This is that post you’ve been waiting for… Well, to be more accurate, it’s the post we’ve been waiting for. And I know that if you happen to see it, you’ll be happy, too.

Mike’s last official day of chemotherapy is next Monday, the 24^th of March. Yesterday, along with our dangerous pal, bleomycin, Mike also received the news from the oncologist that he has the cautious all-clear. He’ll need monitoring every three months for this next year, then every six months, then annually for a decade… but we can be reasonably optimistic that we’ve seen the last of this cancer.

Thank. God.

We’re still processing this great news, but streamers and celebrations will have to wait a little while. We walked out of the hospital after treatment yesterday, got in the car, and barely said a word to each other the whole way home. When we reached the house – instead of champagne and caviar – Mike went straight to bed.

We’re wrecked, friends.

Yesterday’s news felt like an all-clear siren sounding after a hurricane. I said as much to Mike at the hospital and he laughed.

“The first ninety days post-disaster is the sexy phase,” he said. “After that, things get harder.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Donor funds dry up, the world’s attention moves on, follow-through stalls. What do you think is the biggest challenge after the initial response phrase?”

“Unrealistic expectations,” he said. “Donors, beneficiaries, workers on the ground, everybody has expectations out of whack with reality.”

“Huh,” I said. “In this situation I’m a donor and a beneficiary.” [Sidenote: Thanks to both sets of our parents, who have been the primary donors in our case]

“Well,” Mike said, “Aren’t you lucky. You’ll have twice as many pathways to expectations frustration. Congratulations. You’re going to love the reconstruction phase.”

I will.

I mean, I may not enjoy all aspects of the reconstruction phase (we’ve been warned that it will take 6-18 months for Mike to feel like his energetic self again) but I’m thrilled beyond words that we get to have one. Bring on the champagne and streamers… Or, at least, bring them on in a week or two. Or three. Whatever.

They’re coming, folks. They’re coming.

Hooray.