Well I don’t really know where to begin. Or that today is today. It’s mad. It’s unbelievable. It was just a dream. That at times felt so unachievable. But. I’ve done it. It’s here. 5 years chemo free. Today.
And it almost feels surreal. To think of the person I was. The half life I had. Compared to today. And how different it all is.
Life is so different now. Well for a start I have one. I’m not controlled by debilitating chronic fatigue. I’m not controlled by my leukaemic rate and the need to be on treatment. And that person seems to blurry.
Part of me thinks I should start a new blog. Looking back there is so much despair. Heart break. Upset. A crushing loss of hope. Wondering if I will ever truly be me.
And now I am. And it’s not that I want to re-write history. It change it. Or make it seem better than it was. It was awful. But I no longer fear of going back to that person as I used to.
I also have to acknowledge that things are good with my miracle (no longer a baby) baby’ father. (Who is now 4 and starts school in September… UTTER MADNESS!!! Where the hell has that time gone?!?) Which makes everything better.
But no longer worrying about what my next leukaemic rate result will be and the ‘reassurance’ from my consultant that ‘there’s a prescription waiting for you’ has stopped. Is well. It’s unbelievable.
I asked her last week during my check up, which is still every 8 weeks even though it’s been 19 and a half years since my diagnosis and 5 years since I stopped treatment, about how many get to 5 years clear. And in my CML clinic where there are 250 patients there are only 3 of us who have made it to 5 years clear. And unlike every other CML
patient my body doesn’t do it the normal what. What a surprise?!? Lolz.
I learnt that for everyone other than me, when the leukaemic rate starts to climb it normally continues until treatment has to be started again. But not me. Nope. The rate will rise a bit. Stabilise. Drop a bit. Stabilise. Rise a bit. Stabilise. And so it continues. Which is why she used to say to
me that there is a prescription waiting. No one else’s immune system gets it under control when off treatment when the rate starts to rise. Other than me.
And I really do believe that my immune system can do this because of my miracle baby girls stem cells in me. (And probably all the health stuff I do for me too).
So whilst life isn’t what I thought it would
be right now. I will forever be grateful to her father that he was in my life. And that 5 years ago I had a feeling that things were about to change forever. And without telling anyone, I took myself off treatment just in case (as I knew the very long list of defects and damage the chemo I was on did to a developing baby). And that was the best decision I ever made. Because she was my future. She became my life. And she has kept me safe. And she is perfect.
And I am so proud of me. And that overwhelmed 22 year old who asked her then consultant if coming off treatment was ever possible. And I was told it only happened to a few. And I decided there and then that I would be one of them. And yes, it took 14 years and every single treatment option available. Including 13 years of debilitating chronic fatigue. But I never gave up on that hope. And here I am. 5 years treatment free. My body managing remission. For a blood cancer, that on paper, I never should have been diagnosed with.
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