Well, that’s a wrap on my health for 2017, as far as I’m concerned. Back on November 11th, I wrote this about the final screening I was having done to make sure my cancer was obeying me and staying out of my life. I received the results and my CT scan was clear. Unremarkable in every way, and honestly I’ve never been more happy to be unremarkable in my entire life.
So…an unremarkable CT scan, a clear ultrasound, stellar blood tests, a squeaky clean colonoscopy (and as an added bonus great nurses who know how to warm a soft blanket properly, and insert an IV painlessly), and a primary care physician who took the time to call me personally to tell me about the great news!!
I’m now that much closer to being declared cancer free by the professionals. My official cancer free date is November 16th, 2020, IF I can get there with test results that clearly show that cancer was woefully ill prepared to deal with me. Let’s face it, I can be entirely disagreeable and that’s probably why the cancer is gone.
I’m not cooperative enough. I don’t indulge in an unhealthy lifestyle on the regular. I exercise
obsessively frequently, I eat moderate portions (except last night…in my defense I was at my sister Sarah’s mother-in-laws home and was forced to eat delicious gluten free, yet likely calorie laden confections), I drink enough water that I identify as a lake, and I take the recommended daily intake of all vitamins and minerals as endorsed by the Canadian Food Inspection Agency. I’m not kidding, we have that here in the great white north. We take that stuff seriously, eh? It also helped that I had a talented surgeon who worked aggressively to cut that son of a bitch out.
However, I’ve decided that I’m not going to wait to have that proclamation made by someone else, just because they have some fancy letters after their name. I have decided to declare my body a cancer free zone. Right. Bloody. NOW! Why not? I spend most of my days telling people what to do, so why not turn that around on myself? When you think it, you can be it! Right?
In my last blog post over a month ago (turns out I’m no James Patterson after all) I mentioned that I simply couldn’t make up my mind as to what was the more appropriate anniversary to mark. Should it be when I discovered the bastard on September 17th, 2015, or when I had him thrown out on November 16th? Turns out neither is worth celebrating as much as today and all the days ahead of me. I am enjoying great health right this second, and I have the ability to participate in everything life has to offer me. Now THAT is worth marking and celebrating. So I will.
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