🌀 Mood: Normalcy, Hope, Gratitude, Progress

This week felt different — lighter somehow.
For the first time in a long time, I got to be in a room where no one knew I had cancer.
And it felt so good.

Before chemo #9, I attended my Year 2 CUCME class — that stands for Credit Union Certified Marketing Executive. It’s a three-year program. Last year was in Nashville; this year, in Seattle.

I wasn’t thrilled about it at first. I live here, and part of the fun last year was getting away. But in the end, it turned out to be a blessing. My oncologist doesn’t want me flying right now since my immune system is so compromised. So staying local worked out.

I was still nervous about being around a lot of people. But I didn’t want to fall behind or miss graduating with my class. So I went. My logic was: if I started to feel off, I could always let the instructors know and come back next year.

But mostly, I just wanted to feel normal.

No one there knew I was in treatment. No one looked at me with worry or pity. I was just… Cynthia. The marketing exec taking notes, raising her hand, laughing during breaks.
It felt freeing.

Coincidentally, it was also my “off” week from oral chemo pill — I take it 21 days on, 7 days off — and this was my week off. That helped.

I got plenty of walking in, and my back held up surprisingly well until the last day. I think all the sitting finally caught up with me (at work, I stand as much as I can). But I made it through.

And honestly, it re-energized me.
I left feeling thankful — physically tired, but emotionally lighter.

I did end up telling two people. One was a close friend I made last year in Nashville. The other was a woman I met this week who shared her own medical journey. It felt good to open up in small, honest ways — but only when I chose to.

On my drive home, I got a call from Fred Hutch to schedule my consultation.
My stomach fluttered when I heard those words.

I knew this call would come eventually, but hearing it out loud made it real. The appointment is in a few weeks, and I’m trying to stay open to what they have to say.

The more I read, the more I see that there’s no one right answer. Some patients go through stem cell therapy and do well. Others stay on regimens like mine and still reach remission. There’s a lot to think about.

The next day, I went in for chemo #9 — and I was in a much better mindset than I’d been after chemo #7, when I found out my first round wouldn’t end at eight weeks because my numbers weren’t where my doctor wanted them.

This time, I went in hopeful but realistic. I wasn’t expecting much change.

Well… I was wrong.

My numbers made a big jump that week — and my oncologist was genuinely pleased. For the first time in a while, I felt like we were moving in the right direction.

We also talked about something else. A few weeks earlier, I had started having significant back pain again — the kind that doesn’t feel like soreness, but something deeper. My doctor was concerned, especially given that I’d already had a kyphoplasty to repair my T8 vertebra.

He ordered an MRI. But getting the appointment took nearly a month.

So while this visit brought good news, there was still more ahead to figure out.

For now, though, I’m holding onto the good — a week of learning, a body that kept up, and a little hope starting to break through the surface again.