So I had scans again in May, and they were fine, stable, so for now I am all clear to start school. Dealing with that's been occupying a lot of my time. I found a place to live, and am moving out in two weeks! Which I am pretty excited about, even though it makes my dad sad. But it's really time for me to have my own space. He'll be more happy when he sees how much more room there is in the kitchen (I own most of the appliances).
Healthwise, I'm feeling a lot better overall, and I have a lot more energy than I did back in February and April. My lungs are still in rough shape, but I've been trying to get exercise frequently and it does seem to be helping. I'm still a long ways away from being able to run again, or hell, even walk briskly, but the breathing issues are taking less of a toll on everyday life.
I'm getting a sleep study in a week to see if my pathetic lungs are able to bring in enough oxygen while I sleep. Sort of like looking for sleep apnea; if this is indeed the case, I'd have to get one of those c-pap/bi-pap machines to help me breathe at night. Which, ugh. But it's only if the breathing at night is a problem, and if it is a problem, I'd like the solution, even if it's not the most pleasant option.
Plan from here is getting my venous port taken out in July, scans just before I start school in August, and then hopefully just a whole lot of studying anatomy.
So, yeah. That's all, really...none of this stuff about school and my new place really feels like a guarantee, I'm not far enough out to feel even remotely comfortable about my no evidence of disease status. To be honest, I have no idea when I'll even be comfortable, not after dealing with a recurrence, especially one that showed up after six freaking years. However, sitting around doing nothing while hoping the cancer won't come back would be so dumb it's not even worth talking about. And I'm not of the mindset to suddenly drop my plans because I might have died, or might still die. I'm not about to fly to Italy and become an artist or chef or something. For me, the bigger way to say fuck you to cancer is to live my life the way I wanted to do before cancer tried to screw it up. That's all I really want to do, and I'm not about to wait a year to indulge any illusions that that might be "safer."
I think this is the fastest I've ever written a blog post. Must be the guilt. And now I'm going to hit publish before I forget, and you all are left waiting another four months.