Two years later

Two years ago an oncologist told me I had stage 4 melanoma and it appeared our traveling days, and indeed life as I know it, was at an end.

“And now I get to deliver the bad news,” said Kendra, the nurse practitioner as she led me back to the treatment center where I would spend an hour every three weeks getting a dose of immune therapy to rev up my immune system to attack cancer cells. “There’s no cure. You’ll have treatment for the rest of your life.”

Well, maybe not.

The full body scans I get every three months have shown near constant improvement. I don’t have new spots, some spots are gone and others have shrunk. The most I’d hoped for was to be able to stretch out my treatments to every six weeks.

But then…

On Thursday, Dr. Hashem Younes, always a chipper guy even when I’m sobbing in self pity in his office, said my last scan results were “awesome.”

He wants to see another scan and then, maybe, I can go off Keytruda. Sometimes the revved up immune system keeps working, he said.

That means no more scheduling life around treatments every three weeks.

Praise God!

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