I just got the result of the PET scan I did last week and there is no cancer in neither lungs nor liver.  Nothing malignant, nothing spreading.  The junior doctor who found “spots” and “shadows” just didn’t know what he was talking about.  There is nothing there.  Nada.  Niente.

No, this is not the end of it.  Thirteen out of the fifty-eight lymph nodes they took out were cancerous and the whole area where they operated has to be zapped. I have seven weeks of chemotherapy and radiation to look forward to, starting in two weeks. It makes you weak, it makes you nauseous, it makes you vomit and lose your hair.  But what the hell, I’ll live.  The prognosis, doctor Ko assured me, is very, very good.

We are immensenly relieved, but this time around we didn’t even cry.  We’ve been crying too much lately.  Now I’m just focusing on the task at hand — getting through the treatment and returning to my regular life.

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