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Christmas in Memphis: first, the really, really good news.
We got back very, very late last night. I have a few different things that I want to write about which don't coalesce very well into a single post, so expect a lot of disjointed little posts.
Firstly, and most importantly: when we got off the plane in Memphis, Michael's father greeted us with unbelievably good news. He'd been to the oncologist that morning. His latest PET scan showed that the cancer is in full remission.
His oncologist is using the word "miracle."
This just doesn't happen with late-stage lung cancer. He's already lived much longer than we had any reason to expect; median survival is nine months after diagnosis, and in February it will have been 2 1/2 years. And now this.
And it's not just a PET scan difference, either. He's been feeling better. He was able to go out on the driveway and play ball with Alex. He bounced her on his lap, let her sit on his legs and swung them back and forth. He and Michael went out and cruised around for a few hours, doing manly errands like washing the (already immaculate) car. He was sick and weak for the last day of our visit, but on every other day he had the energy to live a normal, if sedate, life.
So that was our Christmas present, right there. O tidings of comfort and joy!
Firstly, and most importantly: when we got off the plane in Memphis, Michael's father greeted us with unbelievably good news. He'd been to the oncologist that morning. His latest PET scan showed that the cancer is in full remission.
His oncologist is using the word "miracle."
This just doesn't happen with late-stage lung cancer. He's already lived much longer than we had any reason to expect; median survival is nine months after diagnosis, and in February it will have been 2 1/2 years. And now this.
And it's not just a PET scan difference, either. He's been feeling better. He was able to go out on the driveway and play ball with Alex. He bounced her on his lap, let her sit on his legs and swung them back and forth. He and Michael went out and cruised around for a few hours, doing manly errands like washing the (already immaculate) car. He was sick and weak for the last day of our visit, but on every other day he had the energy to live a normal, if sedate, life.
So that was our Christmas present, right there. O tidings of comfort and joy!
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-J
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And welcome home.
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wooooo!
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(Thirteen years ago, my mother was diagnosed with metastasized Stage IV colon cancer; at the time, her oncologist said that the five-year life expectancy was basically zero. Ten years later, she went back to the same oncologist and they shared a good laugh at how incorrect that particular prediction turned out to be.)
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P.
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(Not cancer, but I've lived 12 years longer than the doctor thought I would -- some of us surprise expectations.)
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Huzzah!
(Anonymous) 2006-12-28 02:29 am (UTC)(link)-Sumana
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