rain, rain, rain

My back yard and garden are getting a good watering these last couple days. Rain always does a better job than the hose. My beautiful nurse was in this morning. I seem to be healing up (slowly). I haven't been out of my place in a couple days, so i think i'll make my way down the hill this afternoon. It's wet, but not that cold out. My building manager dropped off some vegetables last night, and i received some anonymous dvd's in the mail, so i don't really need to go out, except perhaps to play the piano at rossini's and feel like a person for a bit. Still have a limited immune system, so i have to be diligent still. Breanna stayed over last weekend so we could watch the fireworks for the 11th year in a row. This requires buying a crappy souvenir - which Bree claims she still has all of the from years past. Went out to see Mike McGee at the poetry slam on Monday night. Arrived late and left early, but all the poetry types were glad to see me. Did a radio interview on CFUN with Brett on Wednesday to promote the show at Rossini's. Managed to get some good cancer jokes in. Still impatient to be back to normal, but the chemo and it's after-shocks are still present.

DOOR NUMBER ONE

Fred pointed out that I have left my loyal readers hanging. So here's the news. The photo is of me the morning of the doctor's visit. That man looks worried. At the office at the Cancer Agency, the waiting room is packed. Everyone is waiting to get the talk. No other treatment goes on there. It's all talk. (And weigh in. I put on a kilogram in the last three weeks. I now weigh 111 kilo's or 245 freaking pounds. That is the FATTEST I've ever been. Might have to re-write a poem. Before Fred does.) Anyway I swear ever cancer-ridden mother fucker in the room got called before me. Everyone. Finally I get called into a room. I see Dr. Chi going into another room and smile at him. He doesn't respond. What did that mean? He always takes what he does personally. Makes him the best. Had I let him down? My anxiety went up. I couldn't sit.

Finally the lovely Emma Beardsley comes in. She is fucking ravishing in her summer dress. No lab coat. An angel never looked better. Her smile sweeps me into the chair. "Well," she said in her Aussie accent, "We are very pleased with the results. The lymph nodes have shrunk considerably, and we are confident that will continue. They are still large. They are 2.1 Cm, but thats down 25 % from the original 2.7." I jumped up and hugged her.

I mean, not exactly "The winner is..." But thats what she said. We did it. me and the chemo, and dr. chi and my loyal readers. the lymph nodes have shrunk. this means the chemo worked, and the cancer is on its way out. Door NUMBER ONE. I know you guys prayed for me, thought about me.. and it worked. Say hello to my little friend. NO more Chemo. NO RADIATION. (That shit scared me) and as Emma said. "There's still plenty of chemo in you. We expect the shrinking to continue. We need to see you in three months after another CT scan." "So I'm not cured." "No." "We'll need to follow you for 10 years." "Oh I see, I win, but I don't get the prize for a decade?" "Right." "But no more chemo?" "No more." "Good, didn't want anymore." "I didn't wanna give you anymore." "So now what?" "Go home and take the next few month to recover from what we've done to you."

Sounds like a plan. I tried to celebrate by buying a case of beer and a bottle of jack. Three beer, one shot - I was done. I just have no steam. But I'm slowly getting things back on track. Today is the first Monday of the 21 day cycle that I'm NOT starting a new cycle of Chemo. This day would have to have a natural disaster to suck in my books.

Meanwhile, word is, a Toronto Fund Raiser is going at the Downtown club August 24. Brett Martin is headlining. Love lovelove. RL