Chapter 57: Can’t get rid of me yet
Thank you to everyone who participated, fundraised, supported, cheered, or otherwise participated in the MN Brain Tumor virtual 5K yesterday, 6/14. Together, we raised over $3000- 100% of which will go directly towards brain tumor research. I know myself, along with the entire brain cancer community, thanks you deeply for helping raise funds and awareness for this understudied disease.
Yesterday, my loving parents and a few friends met me early in the morning. We ran a 5K in under 35 minutes, then stuffed our faces with French pastries and pancakes. Many additional family members and friends participated in this 5K all across the world. I have truly never felt more loved. The photos included in this post represent a few of the people who participated, although I know there were many more and I owe you all a great deal of thanks.
Immediately after the 5K, I drove myself to the hospital for my first post-chemo/radiation MRI. Given my first MRI experience was in an unusual, small imaging center in Thailand, I always joke that the MRI experience in America is more like a day at the spa; I was offered a warm blanket, lavender essential oil therapy, and calming acoustic music through comfortable headphones. Snuggled up and ready for my mock-facial, I meditated in the MRI machine for 40 minutes as my head was locked in a plastic cage (thankfully, slightly looser than the radiation mask). Corny as it may be, I truly felt positive energy from all of my loved ones as I lay there awaiting my fate.
Later in the day, the results came in. No growth. No sign of any residual cancer. No evidence of disease progression. In other words, this was the best damn MRI result I could ever hope to have. Brain cancer is not curable, it lingers in cells too small to see on an MRI; however, right now, at this moment, we are winning the war. I plan to keep it that way for a while. Tumor, good try, but you don’t know the strength of the woman and her team that you are dealing with.
Between incredible medical professionals, impressive surgeries and treatments, favorable genetic markers, a peaceful mind, positive energy and prayers, and more love than I ever knew existed, I received my first positive medical result since this all began six months ago. I was honestly not prepared for this. I was expecting more terrible news. Three short months ago, after my last MRI, I spent a peak-COVID evening calling my family and friends to tell them over the phone that my tumor had grown despite aggressive surgery. One call after another, I listened to my loved ones break down and sob over the phone. Feeling this intense helplessness and guilt as I adding to the suffering of those I love, was the worst feeling I had ever experienced. Yesterday, I was finally able to give good news. In this epic year of 2020, a little good news was desperately needed for us all.
After a morning of nerves and an afternoon of gratitude, I spent the evening with people I love dearly, drinking good wine and celebrating life. “Can’t get rid of me just yet,” I told them.
Now what? Now, I focus on writing a book, working as chief resident, practicing mindfulness, growing in my spirituality, educating myself on how to be more anti-racist, and spending time with the people who fill my life with unmeasurable joy.
Today, I think of hope. The Dalai Lama has said, “There is a saying in Tibetan. Tragedy should be utilized as a source of strength. No matter what sort of difficulties, how painful experience is, if we lose our hope, that’s our real disaster.”
Hold onto hope. Sometimes, it is all we have. Fortunately, everything is impermanent. The clouds may form above, but the clear sky is always there, waiting for the clouds to break.
Fondly,
Courtney
©CB2020