How you know you have finished treatment...

I was thumbing through the familiar magazines in the women's waiting area when Sissy came in waving a piece of paper.  "I am finished!  I got my official certificate of completion!"

Sissy is a lovely woman in her seventies that I had talked to a couple of times in the past.  She had had non-Hodgkin's Lymphoma.  Today was her last day of treatment, and she was proudly waving her certificate, complete with her name printed in large script.  Until this moment, I hadn't even thought of how you would mark the end of 33 radiation treatments.  Now I know! When that day comes, hopefully on January 17th, it will not be marked with a guarantee that the treatments have worked 100%.  Instead, it will be recognized by a piece of paper, bearing my name, that says I have finished the course.

I had several reactions to all this.  First, I was really happy for Sissy.  She was all smiles and so glad to have finished treatments.  No more long drives from Hoover, no more fighting the traffic and changing into cute gowns every day.  What a great Christmas present!

But, as Sissy was putting on her jacket, she mentioned that she had had breast cancer in the past.  I don't remember exactly what she said about it, because my mind was only focused on "She had breast cancer before.  Now, she had something else that required radiation.  How often does that happen?  Will it happen to me?"  Honestly, I don't think so.  But I have to admit that I didn't hear the rest of her sentence because I had that alarm going off inside my head.

A piece of paper doesn't guarantee full recovery.  As my oncology radiologist had said the first day "I only ever offer a 90% recovery."  (I am still not in to the percentages. When she said that, two things went through my mind - 'It is still called the practice of medicine' and the other was 'CYA'.)  But, there is no doctor that can guarantee cancer will never come back, and it would be unethical to do so.

Another thought was that I was glad Sissy got a certificate.  This is not the easiest thing in the world to do.  To come in daily to the hospital, to be marked up for treatment, lie down on a board, look up at the eye of a radiation machine that is designed to kill cells in your body....  I can think of more fun things to do.  So, it seems appropriate that, if a 100% money-back guarantee can't be given, at least you should be recognized for your perseverance!

So, I look forward to the day when I get my certificate.  But, yesterday was Sissy's day.  I rejoiced with her as I helped her get her coat on. 

"Congratulations, Sissy, and have a wonderful Christmas!"