Stable

Everyone who’s had a brush with cancer is familiar with scanxiety. Last week, I had a new scan but I was able avoid being anxious about it as last week’s schedule was so packed. It wasn’t until I was reminded that my oncologist would call with the results that I started to feel some of the usual tension.

Traveling back and forth from Amsterdam, and going to the VU for Spring School was so inspiring and invigorating. I felt like I was back to being more like myself before the diagnosis and all the treatments.

But yesterday came around and I felt a little bit of tension waiting for the phone call. To keep myself from checking my file and making my own interpretations of things that aren’t my expertise, I proposed traveling to an art shop to pick up more paper. I have a thing about paper. Even before I ventured into artmaking, paper has always been a fascination for me. I have a bit of thing for notebooks and have a preference for unlined ones that don’t have bright white pages. I can’t explain why, I just do.

Anyway, my oncologist called towards the end of the afternoon. By the time the call came, I was so engrossed in trying to make sense of my messy filing system that I was a bit surprised. So when she told me that it was good news and my scans were stable, I was a little bit unsure how to feel about it. I mean…last time the news was surprising and wonderful. Despite being out of treatment for almost five months, the remaining nodules continued to shrink. Now, six months later, we are stable.

What does it mean?

In a practical sense, my oncologist said that we’ll just go on as we are and she’ll schedule another scan towards end of July. My scans take place every two months as I am being monitored in the context of a clinical trial.

A friend said to me that it’s a good thing to be constantly under medical supervision. That they have another friend who pays out of pocket to have scans done every six months because they’ve been declared cured and dismissed out of the system. The thing is, being declared cured doesn’t really mean much because you never know. I can understand this. I was declared cured once, except a few months later, I wasn’t really.

Stable.

It’s good news and yet I wept a little bit. I want so much for the remaining nodules to be just gone. But stable is good. It means there is no growth. It means I can slowly start to dream again. I can think of enrolling in another art class. I can think of committing again to the work that I’m doing with LIMBO. I can think of doing more for the community and I can give more in terms of attention, focus and energy. I like this me who is present and focused.

And so, I’m piecing together the histories of my life and I’m thankful that even though the files on my computer are messy, my work is there to remind me that I was reaching for something before cancer happened. I can’t go back, but I can move forward.

Nothing in life is guaranteed. We can only do what we can do in this moment. In this now. My encouragement is to live life to the fullest. Be present now and (cliche as it sounds) be the difference that you want to see in the world.

Blessings and peace to you who read this and thank you for stopping by.