Kaity Kasper

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Remission Accomplished

I’ll just cut to the chase. 

My CA125 is 12.5. 

“Normal” is anything under 20.

My cancer is in remission.

We’ve officially made it through hell and entered the light.

*   *   *

I never know any more if the sky is really as blue as it appears to me.  It would seem that chemo unlocked an entire new spectrum that Crayola never introduced me to and I’m still adjusting to this fantastic new palette.  I’m fairly certain the shades of orange and yellow and red that are speckling the trees these days are different than before.  This isn’t new today, but as I wandered alongside one of my dearest today I felt like we were in a land created by the likes of Willy Wonka. 

Its as if I left one world eight months ago and have reemerged in a new one. 

Yet it’s the same.  What is different is me. 

A quote of unknown origin sits tacked next to my favorite quilt in the den:

There are lots of things that I am no longer.  And there are lots of things that I’d never thought I’d be that I unexpectedly am.

Truer words have never been written.

*   *   *

While this day is among my happiest, I also feel a strange tug.  It’s the tug of knowing I never needed to be told what my number was.  In a way it feels like being given confirmation is a bit like cheating on God.  But after four and a half months of knowing and trusting and just plain having faith, it does feel amazing to be handed something tangible to hold up and shout from the rooftops over. 

I didn’t need confirmation.

But it sure feels good to have it.

*   *   *

Near the end of my day yesterday, I wandered into a passage from the Book of Luke:

Blessed is she who believed that there would be a fulfillment of what was spoken to her from the Lord.

Luke 1:45.

That little half a percent of fear I mentioned yesterday rested its head and I knew things would be alright. 

But you still could have knocked me over with a feather when I heard the nurse tell me my number was 12.5.

*   *   *

I don’t know what comes next medically.  Dr. Jones is out of the office this week and I don’t think anyone was expecting a number quite as low as mine.  I should have a better idea of that on Monday.

My nurse did tell me she imagined that he would strongly recommend that I continue what I have been doing.  There is still a huge risk of recurrence to contend with. 

While I don’t know what will happen medically, I do know what comes next in this little life of mine.  We keep taking one step at a time. 

Nothing about today guarantees much of anything. 

So we keep celebrating the good days, learning from the hard ones.  We keep grounding ourselves in faith and in love and remembering every single hour of every single day just how grateful we are for each breath we are gifted with here on this earth.  We keep talking to God and even more than that listening and taking one half a baby step toward His will each and every day.  We keep letting go of control and free-falling into the plans we could never make for ourselves and trusting in the safety net that is His promise and His grace and His love.

Nothing about today guarantees much of anything.

But He is all the guarantee we need.