Kage Baker would, I think, be dancing her triumph dance in the living room today – the dance that accompanied large checks from publishers, and good reviews. She’d declare it a night for victorious Chinese food, and ice cream.
I am officially cancer-free.
Sort of probational: I still have to see my oncologist for regular checkups for a few years. But the Pathology reports show that my recent hysterectomy was successful in evicting all those lethally confused cells from my body. My blood is clear. All graffiti has been scrubbed off the walls of my pelvis. I’m even cleared to drive a little.
The hot wind of a close bullet definitely ruffled my hair, though. When the biopsy was done, my doctor did a thorough D & C – cleared out my uterus to the walls. Pathology nonetheless found a new polyp from the hysterectomy, complete with cancerous cells. It was small, it was the only bad bit, and now it’s been kicked out on its ass. But that sure was nastily aggressive stuff: the new polyp grew in the mere 6 weeks between the two surgeries.
For all the good that did it – Ha!
My darling little doctor informed me that they did 50 slides of my discarded tissue, to make sure they found everything. And all of those slides will go to research after this, so I feel quite virtuous about it all. My doctor is very pleased too, especially as she put off her maternity leave to see me though this. I’d have hugged her, but my arms wouldn’t reach around … we shook hands enthusiastically instead.
So tidily was everything accomplished that I don’t even need chemotherapy. I’ll be seeing my doctor every three months for a while, but I get to keep my hair! And I must admit, I’m pleased about that – I can have the fun of knitting some caps anyway, and I’ll wait for another opportunity to shave my head. One less fraught, I think, so I can get the maximum giggle out of it.
I am also healing with my customary superhuman speed. It’s my one real uncanny skill: I heal fast. It’s why my lymph nodes and assorted pelvic plumbing was obscured by excessive scar tissue, but by God! I hold together!
So Kimberly and I are compiling a list for Chinese food, in order to feast victoriously. This being Los Angeles, there are good Chinese restaurants all over the place – but we have a favourite nearby, the venerable Song Hai Inn. It’s a teeny little narrow dark place, built on one corner of the lot where the original Disney animation shop stood on Hyperion. Kage and I went there often in our young womanhood, to avail ourselves of a truly weird treat: Egg Fu Yung sarnies. On white toast. With bottles of Guiness on the side.
Kage would be glad we’re ordering from them still, I think. Song Hai has survived. And so have I.