Wait...what?

Bit of a curve ball I've been thrown. 

Minutes after a meeting with my boss (who is the man) to discuss how he wanted to handle my potential months long absence from work, given the intense course of treatment I was scheduled to begin, my phone rang.

It was my doctor, who let me know that after presenting my case to the UofM Lymphoma board, they recommended that instead of beginning the two months of chemotherapy followed by the stem cell transplant/hospitalization immediately...we wait six weeks, do another PET scan...and then start then?

I must have sounded like an idiot. 

"Wait....what? So I do or don't have chemo tomorrow?...Actually, can you just start over? None of that makes any sense."

Thankfully, he's a patient guy. He's also been very honest with me from day one, which is a reason why I'm a huge fan of his. 

He went on to explain that basically:

-The board "generally agrees" with his original diagnosis and recommended course of treatment

-That though the PET scan likely indicates refractory cancer, the board was not comfortable considering it totally conclusive, and wants to wait 6 weeks to make "as sure as possible," given the intense nature of the treatment

-That if his diagnosis is correct, 6 weeks of time will not make a large difference in the size of the disease 

-And basically "said without saying" that he is very convinced of his findings, that the board is operating under an abundance of caution, and that I should fully expect to begin the recommended treatment in six weeks. 

Okay? Is this good news? 

I'm trying to just let it go and move on, but it was a strange call. Yes, 6 weeks of normalcy will be great. I'm happy to have it. It's also nice to hear that there may be a chance (albeit small) that this may not be as serious as initially thought, and that I may not have to go through the more intense aspects of treatment. 

Some things I don't like, though: gearing up mentally for an operation or treatment is a process. I'm not trying to be overly dramatic, but it's tough to get to a point where you can honestly say to yourself "I'm ready." 

I felt like I was--so part of me just really wanted to get started. Let's get this over with. 

I also have a hard time classifying this as "good news." I don't want to sound like Mr. Negative, but I feel like once I start considering this:

"Hey you probably have this cancer I said you did and will probably have to deal with this annoying treatment and it's a pretty dangerous situation....but you can have 6 more weeks of pretending to not have a time bomb in your chest" 

as good news, then I'm losing the fight. 

I'm happy. I'm going to use the time well. Get healthy, keep working, keep writing, golf, enjoy "freedom." 

I'm just afraid of complacency--the feeling that we're not doing anything. Afraid of "letting my guard down." That's a weird thing to say, and feel. I'm not fighting anything but cancer, which is an abstract fight to begin with. I have little control over what actually happens. Still, I have to hang on to the feeling that choices I make and things I do make a difference. Maybe that's weird. Maybe that's weak. Maybe that makes me a control freak. Or just a freak. I don't care. Maybe you're the freak. LEAVE ME ALONE, FREAK. 

Anyway...

The process of preparing to start treatment resets, and while the sliver of a chance exists that I could receive some good news in 6 weeks, this will be the only time I mention it. 

I can't afford, mentally, to expect that. 

It's so lame, I know, but at this time, in this realm of my life--I've gotta stay angry. And I will until I hear the words I want to hear from my Doctor, and not a second before. 

This is my cancer face. Ergo, vis a vis, concordently....Cancer is Toby.