8 years and counting...

That's right. It's been 8 years cancer free since I finished chemo. I knew it ended in May 2003, but sitting in my oncologist's office for my yearly checkup I resorted to counting on my fingers to confirm that it really has been that long. I kept thinking my math was off. Given that when I was first diagnosed the average life expectancy was 5 - 10 years, I'd say having to count on my fingers to keep up with the years is a pretty cool thing. While my doctor and I know I'm not cured, keywords like 'durable remission' have a lot of meaning. I'm healthier than I have been in a decade, full of life, and cancer is no longer in the forefront of my consciousness. Sometimes I catch sight of my tattoo and am almost surprised, like: Oh, yeah, that's right. I am a cancer survivor. And that in itself is an amazing accomplishment. To not even think about cancer for days or weeks, when at one time I considered it one of my defining characteristics. I'm thinking I might have to start throwing milestone parties as the years go by.

Dr. Update, Moving & Crafting

I saw my oncologist for my 6 month checkup. Everything was good and very stable. He said I could change to annual visits now! It's a small thing, but means that he has total confidence in my health. So my next scheduled appointment is in June 2010. Wow! I'm glad too that I feel comfortable with this change. A few years ago I would have fretted not seeing him more frequently. But now I'm like "Hell yeah, check me out!"

As I've been boxing up my craft stuff, I've been rethinking some things. Oh, did I really say I would throw away all my nearly-finished projects that I didn't finish in time to move? Can I retract that? Yes, there was some wasted time in the evenings I could have been finishing projects, but really the time flew by faster than I anticipated. I DID finish a pair of harem pants that just needed hemming and a waistband--in time for a street festival performance, too. And I did "throw away" my handspun cinnamon bark sweater that had the front almost finished. When you unravel a large item, we say you're frogging it (rip-it, rip-it). I brought it along to our grandad's on the Solstice to work on, but when I held it up to myself I just knew it wouldn't be as long as the photo and that I'd never be happy. So in front of their shocked faces, I pulled out the needles and started frogging. Making a handspun sweater and wearing it is STILL on my list of things I want to do one day.

Speaking of frogging things, I'm about half done with my second rainbow 2x2 knee sock and I think I might stop at a crew sock length and rip the finished one back to match. The sock is stretched to its max around my calf and I hate the look of stretched knit stitches. Besides, I already have more socks I have to knit as presents before winter, and I'm dying to cast on a lace shawl I recently got the yarn for.

Our Beautiful Katie

You know our sweet baby Katie. She just turned 9, and was looking forward to all the treats and present-opening on xmas. (She loved her pearl necklace and the extra attention it garnered). She'd been a little tired this weekend, but nothing concerning. On Wed. morning she didn't feel well, didn't want to eat or really get up. She was worse when I got home and we took her to the vet. She was so lethargic she barely lifted her head. They found splenic cancer with metastases to her liver and possibly lungs. Sitting there seeing the blood counts and xrays, hearing the options was horrifying - too close to home. Clinging to a hope she might be ok like I was.
Coming to terms that it wasn't an option. We spent 8 hours at the emergency vet, and left without our Katie. There really wasn't any hope to even extend her life without suffering. OMG I can't believe this happened. Until the day before she was perfectly healthy and happy. Chasing Windy and loving life. Once we decided, I went home to get Windy, and stopped to get some french fries, Katie's favorite. She ate a couple, then lay back down. Darin snuggled against her, the vet gave her the injection and Darin pet her and whispered in her ear until her last breath. It was really beautiful, she was so happy and peaceful and content. We should all be so lucky. It was so sudden and unexpected. One lousy day took away our Katie, when we should have had so many more with her. We love her so much, and always will.

Personal Triumph

Five years ago while I was in chemo, my oncology nurse suggested I try walking the Huckleberry Trail with the dog for some exercise. She told me where the trail starts behind the mall, and cautioned me to only walk as far as the big bridge (maybe 10 minutes?) and then turn around no matter how good I felt. And she was right. At the bridge I was very tempted to go further, but heeded her advice and was literally trudging back up the mall hill and went straight home for a nap.

I just came home from my first run on the Huckleberry. I started at the base of the mall hill -- I've biked up it, no way was I including it in my run. I ran to the first bridge past Merrimac and back, 3.7 miles. I've never run hills before, it certainly adds something! I'm glad no one was around to hear, because the last hill made me start cheering myself on trying to get past it. And I did!

I saw a male & female cardinal doing a courting ritual on the path. They would hear me coming and fly about 20 feet ahead and start up their dance, again and again. They looked like they kissed at one point. Very cute.