I know I'll always remember where I was when the twin towers were hit. In my dorm room at UNH in between classes as our floor mates all started piling into our room to watch the news coverage huddled together.
Now I'll always remember where I was when I got this news: with three cocker spaniels, a hot dog dog, a giant poodle, a black and a chocolate lab, two great danes, a furry, white mutt and Sammy at the Granby dog park. With a slobbery baseball in my hand and Sammy wagging her tail at my feet for me to throw it, I got the call from the oncologist. An odd place to receive a life-changing phone call, but the whole thing has been so surreal that it was almost fitting.
I'm feeling better having a diagnosis and am ready to take on this challenge. I'm looking forward to getting better no matter what it takes. My oncologist is "very optimistic" and assures me that the chemotherapy is very effective and that I'm young and strong and will do fine.
A couple more tests scheduled next week then Wednesday is the big "plan of attack" talk with the doc, me and Craig and the first chemo treatment by the end of the week. Feeling overwhelmed by the outpouring of support from so many people, relieved to know what's going on in my body and that there's a treatment, and anxious to zap these cancer cells out of my system.
I will beat this. It's just a matter of pushing through the tough times.