So much for promising to write tomorrow. As of my last post, I was finally DONE with treatment. Free. Ready to live my life to its fullest again. But oh, so tired. It was a bit dismaying to realize just how weak my body had become. Doing things like picking up my children and climbing the stairs took some time to be able to do again. Just being able to go grocery shopping without it taking me 2 days to recover was miraculous! My hair started to grow properly again, and my skin and my eyes stopped looking like those of a very sick person. I walked my daughter into her first day of kindergarten, and the teachers from her pre-k class barely recognized me.
Once treatment was over, I went in every 3 months to get my viral load checked and to make sure that my body was indeed recovering from the side effects of treatment. Every doctor’s appointment and the ensuing week long wait for my results were agonizing. Each time, I would imagine picking up the phone and hearing the words that I so desperately wanted to hear. Still undetectable. Un.detect.able. Sustained Viral Response. What gorgeous words!
In April of ’10, my treatment was declared a success. They are only able to measure the virus down to 15 million copies, so until some other blood test comes out that could prove that the virus is still lurking about, the Western Med folks have given me the clear. I will continue to get labs drawn every 3 months for at least another year just to be on the safe side. I’m quite sure it gone for good. But I am also humble enough to recognize that the Universe has its own plans, and that one must not become complacent.
Looking back, I am unsure as to how we did it. But we did it! My husband is an everlasting source of strength and love. I try on a daily basis to thank him. But really; there aren’t enough words that could really convey just how grateful I am. He has shown me what unconditional love truly is. He is my heart, and I thank the stars every day that he is my mate.
And wow, have my babies grown up so fast!
R doesn’t remember a time when her mamma couldn’t pick her up and swing her around. She is a precocious and beautiful 3.5 year old. She’s full of life, and has not a worry in the world. Which is exactly what my boy and I hoped for by my undergoing treatment while she was so young. It will be a part of her verbal history as we all grow older together, and weave our tales through the years.
M still has vestiges of memories from that long year – but she has come to see that I am indeed better. I catch her looking at me, a bit of worry on her sweet face. But it quickly disappears, and she is once again able to see me as I am today. She is such an old soul, and wise beyond her years. I don’t believe that she will ever forget how sick I was…I can only hope that she will eventually remember that I was able to get well.
And Life marches on. I couldn’t be more grateful.
