Praise God! My first post-treatment scans were clean.
The CT scan was performed to look for evidence of cancer, and there was nothing large enough to detect. This is especially encouraging because I was unable to complete my entire chemotherapy regimen and have several risk factors that place me at a higher risk for both recurrence and metastatic disease.
God heals. Just as Jesus healed the sick, the lame, and the blind throughout Scripture, I believe He has touched my body and continues to sustain me through this journey.

That said, I experienced something very real in the cancer world this past week: scanxiety. Scanxiety is the fear and anxiety of waiting to see what a cancer scan will reveal. As I underwent my first bone scan and CT scan to check for any residual, recurrent, or metastatic cancer, I certainly felt it.
My oncologist shared that I have a greater than 50% risk of recurrence, so she wants to monitor me closely with scans every six months and monthly appointments for the next five years.
So far, the medication has not been too difficult, but I have noticed that my body requires more recovery time after workouts or lifting weights. My hands are swollen, and my feet and back often hurt.
After much prayer and careful consideration, I have decided not to take one of the additional medications offered to reduce recurrence. It is a very aggressive treatment, similar to taking a daily chemotherapy pill for the next five years. Common side effects include hair loss, nausea, diarrhea, and a general feeling of being unwell. From the beginning, I have said that I would choose quality of life over quantity of life. After praying about it and weighing the potential benefits against the cost to my daily life, I have decided this treatment is not the right choice for me. There are no guarantees that it will prevent recurrence, and I do not believe it is worth being sick for the next five years.
As I celebrate this good report, I am also preparing for a major reconstruction surgery on June 25. The procedure will require doctors to use tissue from multiple areas of my body to reconstruct my chest because I do not have enough tissue in any one area to harvest. It will involve an eight-hour surgery, five surgical sites, three days in the hospital, four drains, and a compression garment that I will need to wear for six weeks.
I am scheduled to begin teaching again in mid-July, and I am understandably nervous about returning to the classroom while recovering. I wonder how comfortable I will be and whether I will feel like myself again so soon after surgery.
Thank you for your continued prayers, encouragement, and support. I am deeply grateful to each of you who has walked alongside me throughout this journey.










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