Giving up a year of my life

To save the rest of it.

That's what the doctor told me I have to do to cure this cancer.

I have a daughter that will need me in her life, so that is the plan.

I spent the past week at Sloan. Taking tests. Speaking with doctors.

And crying... a lot of crying.

It is a surreal experience. Trying to understand the complicated schedules and make sense of how my family can manage life without mom.

And not just without mom. Life with a cancer patient.

I'll be treated as an outpatient at Sloan on a clinical trial.

My treatments with be 3 week cycles of chemotherapy for about a year. Typically the cycles are 2 weeks of treatment and 1 week of rest. During my week of rest, I will have to go in for tests.

When I have radiation, it will be 6 weeks with no break. This does not change the chemo schedule.

Some treatments are an hour. Some are ten.

I live about 1.5 hours away from Sloan with no traffic.

So every day is 3 hours longer, just for driving. Probably a little more.

3 hours of being stuck in the car and potentially very ill.

My initial reaction was defeatism.

My next reaction was complete and total fear.

I have a daughter and husband who need me. Who love me.

I am determined to make this work.

I will stay in a hotel on the long days.

I will coordinate a schedule of driving with my family and friends. I hope to have enough people to call when I cannot make it to the city and someone will help.

In the event that falls through, I will use a car service. The sustainability of this option is low for its cost and the emotional drain of being alone. I hope it is a rare thing.

I will sleep in my own bed. I will get to see my daughter and husband everyday.

I will remain positive and strong.

This year of my life. The year I had cancer. The year before I was a cancer survivor starts now.