I had my PET scan on Monday. After a luxuriously relaxing weekend on the Big Island, and by luxuriously I mean all 6 of us together- having fun- playing pool volleyball,  going down the waterslides- laughing. All 6 of us. It was glorious.

It was good to feel normal and try to escape from the cancer cloud. Outwardly, now that I have hair(wow- you don't look sick) we can pretend normal easier. I have to admit- I am not the playful parent. Phil is the fun one.  The timing worked and I felt good. So I played. The kids' reactions made the sore muscles worth it. I learned things like- playing volleyball with a chunk of muscle missing out of your arm can be precarious.  Teaching the kids that volleying can be fun- that we weren't competing against each other- but with each other to keep the ball in the air.  The competitive boy child seemingly confused- but that's not the point of the game! Phil and I laughing - um yeah that's why it's called VOLLEY-ball. jeez.

And for moments I forget that I am a cancer patient. They aren't treating my like I don't feel well or that I am fragile. When my feet cramped,  I tried not to worry that it was an indication of something wrong, but rather a good exercise of muscles. I tried not to think of the looming PET scan instructions- to not over exert yourself prior to the scan. I sometimes suck at following instructions.

I feel pretty good. Chemo weeks are rough. There are aches and a lot of fatigue. So I pretty much write that week off- and by write off I mean- keep plans to essential personnel only. We still run to activities. I just try to rest as much in between as the more tired I get, the achier I get and the brain starts to worry. Instead I envision the chemo attacking the rogue spots and hope that's what the aches are.

The PET scan was pretty much uneventful. They injected me with the radioactive glucose tracer and I slept through the hour waiting period. The scan itself wasn't bad but about halfway through I started feeling anxious despite having a fair amount of anti anxiety meds coursing through my veins. I go in with a plan of things to think about or songs to sing in my head, but generally it's a fight to keep pushing away the what if thoughts and focus on the healing and calm thoughts.  I wish I could sleep through it. Yet I cannot but by the time I get home I'm exhausted and sleep the rest of the day.

So here we are 5 days out- no news is good news- no news is good news. I am hoping that is true. I am just hoping for stable. I just want stable. Because one week out of three being achey and tired isn't too bad. I have hair. There are days where I almost feel normal. Almost. And that is reassuring because I don't always feel sick and I don't look sick- so that has to count for something.

Monday is back to chemo. I have a cold I'm trying to shake.  I can't help but think back to the string of colds I couldn't seem to shake, worrying I overdid it. It doesn't matter it was totally worth it. Hoping for a boring stable kind of weekend. Last weekend seems so far away already. But the school year is wrapping up and I am grateful for the distractions!