Off Meds, Off Restrictions, and Officially in Remission
When I finished chemotherapy and had my PET scan in August, I didn’t get the “no evidence of disease” stamp I was desperately hoping for. Large B-cell lymphoma is highly inflammatory, so while my results were very promising, my oncologist listed the diagnosis as “X” (unknown) so insurance would approve another PET scan in three months.
Around the time of that August scan—about six weeks post-chemo—I finally started feeling like myself again. I’d been back in Pilates since April, started a progressive-overload strength-training program in August (I even got weights for my birthday!), and began walking all three dogs by myself again. It was both a physical feat and an important part of my daily routine. The more I moved my body, the better I felt.
During chemo I dealt with constant muscle cramping—charley horses in my calves at night and quads that locked up with the slightest exertion. Now, in recovery, the impact on my bones and joints has become more obvious. Mornings remind me of my old dancing days: my ankles ache and protest for the first several steps, my knees won’t let me squat as deep, and my shoulders are so arthritic it’s hard to pull a shirt over my head.
It’s hard, it’s frustrating, and I don’t know how long it will take—or if my joints will ever feel normal again. But I do know a body in motion stays in motion. I’m so grateful I was active before I got sick; returning to movement felt natural, and it’s been easier to prioritize something that’s just for me—something that’s hard to do when you’re a teacher.
My follow-up PET scan was scheduled for November 7. As the date got closer, doubts crept in. The “what if” thoughts loomed, and I started mentally preparing for the possibility of more treatment. Even though Dr. Bair had told me in August that I wouldn’t need additional chemotherapy, I wanted to be ready for any outcome.
On Friday, November 7, I walked into radiology at 5:45 a.m. for my scan. The nurse placed a line in my arm and checked my blood sugar. The tech injected the tracer, and then I lay under a warm blanket (straight from the blanket oven—one of the only perks of being in a hospital) for 45 minutes. After that, it was fifteen minutes in the scanner with my arms overhead, trying not to fidget.
When it was over, I treated myself to coffee and a croissant and headed home. In a twist of irony, I had to pull out the plastic cover for my arm for my shower because the line had to stay in for afternoon labs.
I went back to the hospital alone—Jordan was at work. The nurses drew my blood, removed the line, and I waited for my appointment with Dr. Bair. Just as I was getting nervous, I looked up and saw Jordan sliding into the chair next to me. He’d zoomed over on his motorcycle and made it just in time.
Dr. Bair came in, reviewed my perfect labs, glanced at the scan, and casually told me I was in remission. The uptake had continued to decrease, enough to declare no active disease. My doubts melted away. I couldn’t stop smiling, and I may have shed a happy tear or two.
The very next day I left for a long-planned girls’ trip to San Antonio with one of my dearest friends from school. We caught up, ate amazing food, laughed over old memories, relaxed at the spa, saw the classic sights, did Pilates (of course), and drank delicious coffee. It was perfect.
A few weeks later, in mid-November, I had my follow-up with my cardiologist. The pericardial effusion and blood clot that complicated my early treatment had left me on blood thinners, plus a self-imposed caffeine ban because of my rapid heart rate. Dr. Bell gave me the all-clear, took me off all medications, and said, “You’re 34—there’s no reason to keep you on these for the rest of your life.” I loved hearing that, unprompted. She told me to just keep doing what I’m doing.
I have so much to be thankful for: my health, a boyfriend who dropped everything to move cross-country and care for me, family and friends who supported me near and far, a platform to share my journey, a welcoming Pilates community in Denver, and a completely fresh outlook on life. From the bottom of my heart—thank you for coming along on this ride with me.
