There's No Place Like Home

The trip back to Oz (MSKCC) on Tuesday for my scans was rough. I always get nauseous at the sight of the building, which gets progressively worse as I get closer to the pediatric floor of the hospital. Still it was much better than before, and I was feeling the best I have felt for 11 months. What was difficult this time was seeing the kids looking how I used to feel - in their wheelchairs, heads down (to reduce light and all visual stimuli) with their faces over a bin, moving as little as possible. It broke my heart in pieces. It was a version of survivor's guilt, I think, and it made me cry.

The entire day Anna pushed me from appointment to appointment, scan to scan. Just ahead of us all day was an 8 year old girl with Neuroblastoma. She was diagnosed when she was just four, had three years of remission and now it is back - just as she is about to start the 2nd grade. Her Mom and Grandma drove her overnight for 12 hours after their connecting flight was delayed on their way to Oz. They then spent all day patiently waiting for each test. The only unhappiness this little girl showed was when Nuclear Medicine was ridiculously behind schedule, and she needed lunch. She is the bravest little lion I have ever seen.

One of my appointments was with my Orthopedic Oncology Surgeon. We looked at my x-rays and I asked him about my new rebuilt leg. He told be about a gift I received from someone I don't even know. This someone was an organ donor, and was my match for a donor tendon and proximal tibia bone. Without this person donating their bone and tissue (and a great surgeon to attach them), I would have had to have my leg amputated. I get to keep more than a fancy pair of ruby red slippers, I get my leg! Thank you organ donors of the world - you are both the Tin Man with a beautiful heart, and the scarecrow with a brilliant brain.

My new leg - the bright white part is titanium, running from my upper thigh......

to my lower calf, plus a fancy new knee. The grey part at the top of my calf is donor bone.

Wednesday we were in scanxiety mode, awaiting the results of my scans and x-rays. Was the cancer still resident in my bones, had it moved on to new body parts, or was it gone? While awaiting the call from Oncology, I learned that a 17 year old boy with osteosarcoma had died Tuesday, the second child in as many days.

My call came at noon, finally! The Wicked Witch of the West, after having much water thrown on her in the form of High Dose Chemotherapy for 10 months, has mmmmmmeeeeellllllttteedddd! My first post-chemo scans showed that I have No Evidence of Recurring Disease, therefore I am officially, gleefully a NERD! It is what we all dream of becoming, and more importantly, remaining - forever.

I was reminded in my relief and jubilation that I am still on a journey - I need a chest x-ray every month, a full set of scans every three months for the next three years, and lots of physical therapy so I can start to walk again. All tasks I will happily endure as long as the witch stays dead, my visits to Oz are brief and chemo-free, and there are no flying monkeys in my future.

There is no place like home, there's no place like home, there's no place like home.