Now all systems are go again. We just can’t not go to Georgia. You know how I keep talking about the trail of bread crumbs and the path illuminating in front of my feet? Well, this is it. I could stay here and do conventional chemo, and insurance would cover every red cent of it. But there would be no immune recovery or immune stimulation. And let’s face it. If my immune system was acting the way it should, it would not have escorted cancer in my door, much less poured it a drink and had it make itself at home. Yeah, it made itself at home alright. Took over the whole damn house!
Everything has fallen into place, and I feel very drawn to it. As I said yesterday, I have felt that before and wound up in so much trouble. The self-doubt that experience caused has left me not trusting myself very much. Here’s the really weird thing. I have not once, in the past five years, gotten No Evidence of Disease (NED). I have had active cancer in my body the whole time. And I’ve been close to death more than once. But each time, I have pulled back up out of that to the point that people take it for granted that I will be just fine. I feel like the Boy Who Cried Wolf in that one of these days, it’s going to be the one that takes me out of here. But who knows when that will be?
The important thing is that, looking back, I see a distinct pattern of healing. Each time I go down, when I come back up, I am better than before. Stronger than before. More energized than before. Wiser than before. And older looking than before, but I’m trying to be patient with myself. My body has been a war zone for the past five years. A bloody battlefield. So a wrinkle or two … a scar or two … expected status.
So, the Devil Went Down to Georgia. Day after tomorrow! If anyone knows any good boiled peanut roadside stands, holler! This Southern gal has been out of the South for too long.