Well, my last chemotherapy was March 6.

On March 24, there was a huge fire in our apartment building. Had it not been for firewalls between the units, we'd have all been without literally anything except the clothes on our back. (We were on the news the next day; me and my bald, cancer ass. LOL And my bestie/ex-boyfriend/roommate.)

I had a PT scan schedule for March 26th. I got a call about two weeks after the scan (we were well situated in a nice one-bedroom suite at a hotel which our renter's insurance paid in full) and my oncologist told me the PT scan was clear!

Which means I'm cancer free! I still have another CT and PT scan, plus blood work, on May 12. Just a follow up to the follow up. My oncologist is overly cautious, which I'm okay with. I also expect to be scanned regularly (probably twice a year) for the next couple of years.

The wound on my neck is healing up, but is slow going. Chemo slows your immune system. So I have to wait for all those chemicals to get out of my system, and my own immune system to take over.

And my oncologist swapped out one of the harsher chemo drugs for the last two treatments, and replaced it with an immunotherapy. Wow, what a difference. My bounce back was faster, and my fatigue etc was less. But I still very much had to take it easy on a day to day basis. But I felt more "normal" much sooner in the two weeks between treatments than anytime before.

My taste buds are mostly all back. I do still have some neuropathy in my toes and the balls of my feet. They're tingly and numb (almost as if when you electrocute yourself). Hopefully it'll diminish this summer.

But yeah, it was the worst and toughest fight I've ever had in my life (and that's saying something considering a few folks on the Org! HAHAHA I kid, I kid). I hope none of you, even those of you who grate on my last nerve, never have to have to go through any sort of cancer. It's horrible.

I'm lucky that even at 56, I had youth on my side. Most of the men and some women in the infusion suite were at least 15 years older than me, if not more, getting different types of infusions (not always chemo). I'm still dealing with the PTSD. I have "triggers" (I hate that word) that set me spiraling. Mostly just smells that are really similar to the medications.

Oh, we moved into a new apartment on April 21 (my mom's death date, no less!). Same rent, floor plan, just about 800 feet over from the burned out building. I also hope you never have to face the threat of a fire. While we didn't lose anything (even to smoke damage, thanks to the firewall, the wind blowing the other direction, and being downstairs), it's still devastating to face it. As you can see from the news video (all the videos of the fire were mine, by the way; I gave the reporter 4 or 5 videos from my phone), it was really bad and fast moving.

It's been a fuck of a year, and I hope 2025 is much lighter and brighter for all of us. New music, old friends, love God, lovesexy, and all that. I lived to see the dawn, muthafukkas!

Glad that your fight against cancer ended well. May your days moving forward be much better and filled with the positive possibilities of life.

Great to hear!

That is fantastic news!!

I'm sorry you had to go thru hell to get there!

Stay strong!

TrivialPursuit said:

Well, my last chemotherapy was March 6.

On March 24, there was a huge fire in our apartment building. Had it not been for firewalls between the units, we'd have all been without literally anything except the clothes on our back. (We were on the news crossy road the next day; me and my bald, cancer ass. LOL And my bestie/ex-boyfriend/roommate.)

I had a PT scan schedule for March 26th. I got a call about two weeks after the scan (we were well situated in a nice one-bedroom suite at a hotel which our renter's insurance paid in full) and my oncologist told me the PT scan was clear!

Which means I'm cancer free! I still have another CT and PT scan, plus blood work, on May 12. Just a follow up to the follow up. My oncologist is overly cautious, which I'm okay with. I also expect to be scanned regularly (probably twice a year) for the next couple of years.

The wound on my neck is healing up, but is slow going. Chemo slows your immune system. So I have to wait for all those chemicals to get out of my system, and my own immune system to take over.

And my oncologist swapped out one of the harsher chemo drugs for the last two treatments, and replaced it with an immunotherapy. Wow, what a difference. My bounce back was faster, and my fatigue etc was less. But I still very much had to take it easy on a day to day basis. But I felt more "normal" much sooner in the two weeks between treatments than anytime before.

My taste buds are mostly all back. I do still have some neuropathy in my toes and the balls of my feet. They're tingly and numb (almost as if when you electrocute yourself). Hopefully it'll diminish this summer.

But yeah, it was the worst and toughest fight I've ever had in my life (and that's saying something considering a few folks on the Org! HAHAHA I kid, I kid). I hope none of you, even those of you who grate on my last nerve, never have to have to go through any sort of cancer. It's horrible.

I'm lucky that even at 56, I had youth on my side. Most of the men and some women in the infusion suite were at least 15 years older than me, if not more, getting different types of infusions (not always chemo). I'm still dealing with the PTSD. I have "triggers" (I hate that word) that set me spiraling. Mostly just smells that are really similar to the medications.

Oh, we moved into a new apartment on April 21 (my mom's death date, no less!). Same rent, floor plan, just about 800 feet over from the burned out building. I also hope you never have to face the threat of a fire. While we didn't lose anything (even to smoke damage, thanks to the firewall, the wind blowing the other direction, and being downstairs), it's still devastating to face it. As you can see from the news video (all the videos of the fire were mine, by the way; I gave the reporter 4 or 5 videos from my phone), it was really bad and fast moving.

It's been a fuck of a year, and I hope 2025 is much lighter and brighter for all of us. New music, old friends, love God, lovesexy, and all that. I lived to see the dawn, muthafukkas!

What has been the most significant lesson or insight you've gained from your experiences over the past year, especially in relation to your health and the fire incident?

Well FUCK!

I had a biopsy on May 12. My oncologist called with the results. There is still Hodgkins in me. Which means more chemotherapy.

I guess it's a different method, called ICE.

The ICE chemotherapy regimen (Ifosfamide, Carboplatin, and Etoposide) is a common treatment for relapsed or refractory non-Hodgkin's and Hodgkin's lymphomas. It’s the option used when maybe the lymphoma didn’t respond as wanted, or it’s returned. The cycle can likely still be up to twelve weeks, which is half the time of the other. I’ll still face nausea, fatigue, and hair loss (it’s just now finally coming back).

It's every three weeks, and will last most all of the summer. It will start probably around June 24.

I'm rather bummed about it, but my other option is to just die from it. I don't wanna do that, of course. My hair has started to come back, my taste buds are mostly back, but I still have some neuropathy in my feet, but it's not crippling or anything.

I thought the fire in March in our apt building would've been the big ! on everything. But nope - let's go for round fucking two of this shit.

Amandaly said:

What has been the most significant lesson or insight you've gained from your experiences over the past year, especially in relation to your health and the fire incident?

Not to count your chickens before they're hatched.

That I'm stronger than I thought I was.

That I easily underestimate handling trauma.

That I had to accept my doctor telling me I have PTSD.

That I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired.

TrivialPursuit said:

Well FUCK!

I had a biopsy on May 12. My oncologist called with the results. There is still Hodgkins in me. Which means more chemotherapy.

I guess it's a different method, called ICE.

The ICE chemotherapy regimen (Ifosfamide, Carboplatin, and Etoposide) is a common treatment for relapsed or refractory non-Hodgkin's and Hodgkin's lymphomas. It’s the option used when maybe the lymphoma didn’t respond as wanted, or it’s returned. The cycle can likely still be up to twelve weeks, which is half the time of the other. I’ll still face nausea, fatigue, and hair loss (it’s just now finally coming back).

It's every three weeks, and will last most all of the summer. It will start probably around June 24.

I'm rather bummed about it, but my other option is to just die from it. I don't wanna do that, of course. My hair has started to come back, my taste buds are mostly back, but I still have some neuropathy in my feet, but it's not crippling or anything.

I thought the fire in March in our apt building would've been the big ! on everything. But nope - let's go for round fucking two of this shit.

Oh no! I'm sorry to hear that!

You got this, just a little bit longer than expected, stay strong

Well, they've decided the aforementioned ICE treatment isn't what they want to do.

Instead, they are arranging for me to go to the VA in Seattle. It's a place that does Hodgkin's via stem cell transplants. We will be there about six weeks or so. The VA is paying for the flight including one for my best friend-turned-caregiver. They have a house on the VA site for people like me to stay in (someone there for long term treatment and their caregiver).

It's a fast-tracking process, and we're gearing up to go. No departure date yet, but we're literally buying new luggage (because we had one suitcase all this time?!), arranging for folks to take care of the cat, check for mail, etc. Just lots to work out before we leave.

It's a scary process, but this is promising. Others have said it's what and where I need to stay alive. It's the place to go.

I've had chemo last Monday/Tuesday. Some other minor infusion two days in a row, but kinda socked me out this weekend. Nothing too bad. I'll have chemo again in Seattle to get the disease down before the stem cell harvesting. At least I'l have a friend with me, and in a comfortable place until we get home.

Fingers crossed!

Safe travels and good wishes!