[2022-03-03] Good for another month
I returned to the Irving Greenberg Family Cancer Centre this morning—not for radiation or for anything to do with my perianal skin cancer. No, this time it was for my monthly bloodwork, which is a follow-up to my ovarian cancer.
Though my blood is tested for 29 different elements, the only number I really care about is my CA125. This test measures the level of cancer antigen in my blood. A result below 35 is considered to be in the normal range.
It's always the last of the monthly results to show up in my online chart, meaning I check multiple times throughout the day as I wait for that number to come in. Earlier this evening, while running an errand with my daughter, I logged in to my online chart for the umpteenth time today, and there was my result. Another 8. In truth, it's never just another 8. It's a glorious 8. I hope-filled 8. A life-extending 8.
My CA125 was 920 when I was first diagnosed with ovarian cancer in July 2020. It was at 862 when I was next tested in September 2020, a month after surgery to remove cancerous tumours along with my reproductive organs. It plummeted to 19 after three rounds of chemotherapy, when I was next tested in December 2020. January's test result was 10 and February's was 8. I've remained at 8 or 7 ever since. Every time I see another 8, I sigh, smile and tell myself "good for another month."
Interestingly, today's report showed that both my neutrophil and white blood cell counts are up, at 2.7 and 3.9, respectively. This is the highest they have been in 18 months. I'm not sure what accounts for that, but I'll take it as a win.
I shared my blood results with Melanie as we were coming home from our errand. She commented: "Your body is trying really hard to heal itself." And as I was finalizing this post, I read this statement in James Clear's weekly newsletter: "Your entire life happens inside your body. It's the one home you will always occupy and can never sell." What an interesting analogy. My body is my home. I will always occupy it. I can't sell it or trade it for something better. I can only take care of it.
Clear goes on to say, "But you can renovate it." If surgery counts as renovation, I've been through my fair share: 6 over the course of my lifetime, of which 2 were related to cancer. And if cancer treatment counts as maintenance, I'm doing my best after 6 rounds of chemotherapy, 25 rounds of radiation and more than 1,500 tumour-fighting pills.
Take care of your body like your life depends on it.
