Like many of us, I am in a "strange" place - not quite cancer free, though no evidence of disease, but with a rising CA125 after a period of stability. (My CA125 was as low as 10 - from 2056 at diagnosis (3C) , 639 after surgery and consistent progress during chemo and the months that followed.)
A little more than a year ago, it began to rise in small increments (CA125 of 10, 12, 14, 17, 21, 28, etc.) and whilst still in the normal range, a continual increase and a concerning pattern - to me as well as to my Oncology team. In the last three months it has risen to 57 and has doubled its prior level in one leap (not a good sign). Along the way, when suspicions were high and other reasons for a rising CA125 ruled out, I had been tested for other markers (CA19-9 of 74, 2X the limit) and visible signs (CT/PET). No radiological confirmation of cancer recurrence.
Normally, this would be where one would exhale, audibly, and maybe even celebrate! Certainly one would imagine I am relieved. But like many facing the same situation, I am not relieved. My anxiety worsens.
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 loudly popping - exposing me to the cancer that lies lurking in the shadows, exposing me to the dangers of what comes next. Every new abdominal pain or back ache 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, little by little until I can once again roam free or until I am told that it is definitely back and thus treatable.
All I can do is wait and make the most of my time while trapped in the balloon factory. While I wait, I think of the others in the same situation and though I am saddened at the thought, I take some comfort in knowing I do not wait alone.
Wishing you all peace and comfort.
Sophia