...for now. From the last post, the wife was there for the news, her family (which has been very supportive through all this) knows, my family knows, the few people at work know, and they are all happy that it's probably gone.
I should be happy, right? I'm not. Yet. The past few weeks have been weird. I don't know how I feel about all this yet. It's all happened so fast. I think I'm still processing all this. And there at least two things I can point to that make this weird for me, and more difficult to process than everyone else.
Everyone else thinks that now that we are on monitoring, odds are it's gone and we're done. Yay, let's celebrate! And yes, those are the odds.
But I've read stories about people who were told a seminona was winning the lottery of cancer. Then 12 years later it comes back, and they have a hard fight to get through it. It's these stories that still scare me, even after what is supposed to be good news.
We might be done. So yay. But we might not.
And there is my second point. Everyone else only hears the doctors words. Yes we're hopefully done, and I'm clear. But I'm the one that has to check that box at every doctors visit. I'm the one that feels something is missing. With every time I get in or out of a chair, I feel what I'm missing, and I think about it. Every step, and I feel lopsided, and I think about it.
Everyone else hears we're probably done with this, and they are happy and done dealing with it. Yet I feel the results with every movement, and I know it could come back. Every step reminds me of that, and everyone else is relieved. I'm still scared with every step I take, every little swing my one little guy has left. It weighs on me much more than anyone else who is there to support me.
You all are there to support me. This might be the end. And I thank you all for the support, but I'll live with this fear with every step I take.
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