Sunday, July 8, 2012

PET Scan (Year One)

One of these days, you will die. We don’t know when, or how, or under what circumstances, but it is a 100% definite fact that each and every one of us will die. So will our parents, our siblings, our best friends, our spouses, and even our children.

Since these types of thoughts make many of us uncomfortable or upset, we generally try to push them out of our minds. But if you or a loved one faces a terminal illness, thinking about dying is only natural and inevitable.

With my mom, we prayed that she would not have pain or suffering, and that she would be here for the next milestone: our wedding, my pregnancy, the birth of her grandson, the holidays, Ryan’s first birthday, etc. We were so blessed that she was able to be here for these significant moments.

There is no guarantee that anybody will be here next year, next week, or even tomorrow. I am not saying this to sound morbid (I am actually a positive/cheerful person) but because it makes me think about the value of my own life and the lives of those around me. 

I am always thinking, if there are only x amount of days left in my life, have I spent today doing something that is worthwhile, meaningful, and that makes a positive difference for others? How do I want to be remembered when I am gone? What do I want to accomplish while I am here?

I am not at all scared about what will happen to me afterwards. I know that my mom is already waiting for me there with opened arms. My greatest concern is being able to provide enough love to my family while I am still here, while I can. 

I read somewhere that if a child loses a parent before age five, they usually don’t remember much about them. I also read that there is a 30% chance of recurrence, within the first three years, for triple negative breast cancer. I know that these are only statistics, but I just can’t help but wonder.

Will I be able to be here for Ryan’s first day of kindergarten, or for his high school graduation, or to dance with him at his wedding? Will Barry and I have the opportunity to fulfill our dream of growing our family and having more children?

These are the impossible questions that preoccupy me as I go in for my latest PET scan. It has been fourteen and a half months since my last dose of chemotherapy, and we are hoping and praying that the cancer has not returned to my body. 

The radiologist sticks me with a needle and injects dye into my veins. I have to lay completely still and silent for an hour. Then I am pushed through a large, cylinder-shaped machine that can detect any indication of cancer in my body.

This one test determines my future. Our future.

We are anxious and eager for the results. A few days later, we receive the call from my oncologist. 

My PET scan is completely clear. I am still cancer-free!

Praise God! I can finally breathe a sigh of relief. Our future suddenly looks so bright! I have never been more happy to pass a test in my life. Here’s to hoping that I continue to pass this one over and over again.


  1. I was holding my breath until the end of your post! Thank you, Lord, for the clear test! I am so happy for you!!!

  2. OMG I tried to read as fast as I could to read the results.. Actually I have been waiting for a month to see if you posted any news since your last apt. I am So happy you had a clear test! Praise God and Congrats!

  3. Woo hoo! Such wonderful news!! So happy for you, Dana!

  4. Thank you ALL so very much! You ladies are too sweet! Thank you for always being so supportive with your messages and for following my blog. It means a lot to me. xo.

  5. I loved this post - it reminds me to live every moment to the fullest too! And of course, I LOVE hearing those results again. Such incredible news. XOXO

  6. @Karen- Thanks for your kind words and also for being by my side throughout everything and always being there for me no matter what. I am so blessed to have you as my best friend! I love you and miss you!


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