Dear, dear friends,
I am going to keep this short because the keyboard is getting soaked from my now infamous crocodile tears. But I can honestly say that Greg and I now know what it feels like to win the lottery. We went to see my doctors at Georgetown Hospital today and while we had been optimistic for some time - it was nice to see the pathology report in black and white. (And I have never seen doctors grinning more from ear to ear! Thank you, Dr. Shawna Willey and Dr. Claudine Isaacs.) It is now official: there was no cancer in my lymph nodes (7 in all were taken out last Tuesday - none had cancer and if none had cancer then none of those Al Qaeda cells had a chance to spread. And there won't be a need for any Gitmo lock-ups - these cells are dead, dead, dead and we didn't even need to use the water board.) But here is the kicker...the tissue that they took out of each breast had what they call "a complete pathologic response" to the chemotherapy - that is the Holy Grail when it comes to Triple Negative. That means that yes it was me that you may have seen clicking my heels like a leprachaun if you were driving past Georgetown this morning - and I wasn't even on THAT much Percocet. That means that in 2 - 3 years time if there is no return (which is statistically almost impossible at this point) then they can declare me "cured" - not a term they use lightly in the world of oncology. I am officially "cancer free". (And boy do I have some beautiful new breasts to boot.) More later when I come down from this high. Thank you and thank God. And, yes, I now believe in miracles.
Many have written asking which color lipstick I wore to my mastectomy. It was a gloss. "Lovechild" by MAC. Lots of it.