Of course I'm mostly thrilled. I've cleared another hurdle. As I've written in earlier posts, statistically there is an average 10-year life expectancy with the type of tumor I have, so I'm not completely surprised to still be alive. Furthermore, I know people who are much sicker than I, and I know that brain tumors are just as fickle and random as the individuals who own them. In short, I'm lucky. Nothing more, nothing less.
So I asked my doctor if I could stop worrying.
She says no; I'm not out of the woods yet.
Since my diagnosis almost three years ago, I have not recovered from the shock in terms of the fact that something bad happened to me, and there are no clear answers as to the why, and what's next.
I'll never know if I grew a brain tumor because I drank bad Hillsboro water, breathed too much second-hand smoke, or because I'm just a product of faulty construction.
And no expert dares to ponder how long I will live with this thing. I just know I have more living to do.
I was very touched last night as I told my husband and son my good news. My son, of all people, said we should go celebrate at a place of my choosing. And we did.
But even my doctor says I can't stop worrying yet. So I'll keep taking the "I don't care" pills and hope to clear another hurdle in four months.