It has been almost six month since my last chemotherapy treatment. My two post-chemo follow ups have been positive with a steady CA125 and no evidence of disease. I remain in remission. One would think that I would be relieved and that the ever present cancer consciousness would begin to fade, if only slightly.
Instead, I feel much like a porcupine who finds herself trapped in a balloon factory, afraid to move for fear of a balloon falling, landing on a quill, and popping exposing me to the dangers of what comes next. Every new abdominal/back ache and pain is a falling balloon. Every bout of exhaustion another balloon. Each new lump or bump yet another balloon and every blood test a potential “Pop!” I would very much like to run from this balloon factory – through the doors and into the sunlight without ever looking back – but I cannot run.
The best I can do is to make my way, so very slowly, three months at a time for the next two years (and then at a slightly more accelerated pace), until five years from now when I can once again roam free. Though the thought of being trapped in the balloon factory will no doubt remain with me for the rest of my days, I hope never again to see another balloon.