It’s been just over two years since I sat in that cold chair and received my stem cells after such a high dose of chemotherapy that it would have otherwise taken my life. Two years since I fought harder than I ever knew I was capable of. Two years since I said goodbye to my kindergartner, my three year old, and my four month old, choosing to become my own hero when they needed me most.

It’s been two years since I truly learned the depth of my husband’s support, and how my family showed up for us in every possible way. Some days, two years feels like a lifetime ago. And yet, it’s astonishing how often it still feels like just yesterday.

I had my annual imaging completed on December 9th with the results of “Ill-defined soft tissue thickening in the anterior mediastinum, slightly more conspicuous” . Within 10 minutes of the results hitting my my chart, I received a message from my oncologist assuring me that my results looked good and that we would discuss more in person later that week. I screen shot the results and message to Terry and headed into work with the anxiety slowly rising. 

At my appointment 3 days later, we discussed the images in detail. We talked how it was believed that the spot in the chest that was seen was most likely to represent thymic tissue than the return of lymphoma. Although we didn’t believe the cancer had returned, additional and more intense imaging would be needed for confirmation. I was scheduled for the next available spot which was 2 days before Christmas. Although I didn’t want to spend the days leading up to the holidays at the cancer center, I was relieved I would have my results before Christmas. Funny thing in life is when you plan, things are bound to happen and in this particular instant I was unable to get scans completed. So almost four weeks later (and the beginning of the year) I am sitting in the closet waiting for my “medicine to marinate” for my PETscan. (Cue the reason why I have the time to update- no work or kids for an hour while I wait). 

While I sit in silence, I can’t help to reflect on the drive into the cancer center today. It was a quiet reminder that even as time moves forward, the anxiety and the constant unknown never fully disappear. It put things into perspective—how easy it is to get lost in the daily chaos and routine, and how, without realizing it, the most important things in life can slowly become buried beneath it all. And for that- I am grateful for this reminder. A reminder of the importance of family and friends and how nothing is ever guaranteed. So here I wait, another 30 minutes for results that I know will be “fine”. [My favorite word]

Promise I’ll update once we have the results and I talk to my BMT team next week. But I promise everything will be “fine”- because truly there isn’t another option.