Cass and I are sitting in the exam room at the BC Cancer Centre. I’ve taken my weight. I’m 225 lbs, no change from last check up, which pisses me off because of how much I’ve been exercising. I suppose the exercise can only offset the amount of beer and wine I drink to some extent. However, the beer and wine and good food are so much a part of what it’s worth living for, for me, so I’m going to go easy on myself for now.
Dr. Sheila breezes in and shakes our hands. She’s smiling… that’s always a good sign when seeing your oncologist. She asks me how I feel to which I answer ,”Fabulous”. She says I look good in real life and that my paperwork looks good too. She thumps my back and chest. She feels my throat, neck, armpits and groin. She palpates my liver and spleen. I’m a “good patient”. Everything is the size and shape that it’s supposed to be.
And there it is. 16 months in remission. Tearful hugs all around for the “participants” in this version of the “someone in the family has cancer” home game. Tonight we’ll have a well deserved bachannalia with friends. I remain, as always… the “for now lump free” Tom.
“I’m viewed as this weird, crippled character. But you got to take your lumps.” Billy Corgan
“I was silent as a child, and silenced as a young woman; I am taking my lumps and bumps for being a big mouth, now, but usually from those whose opinion I don’t respect.” Sandra Cisneros