Part one of this cancer series points out how insidious cancer can be, especially a cancer like multiple myeloma. After seven cycles of a five-week treatment regimen, James’ oncologists felt it was time to end the treatment. Side effects were starting up and they felt they had achieved the desired outcome. It was time to stop.

Hmmm. As stressful as starting treatment was, ending treatment had its own stressors. For one thing, we were accustomed to being in the clinic for a regular check up; blood work was done at every appointment and we could look at little charts that showed the cancer in the blood was reduced to being immeasurable. It was very reassuring. 

We were reduced to three month check-ups. Sounds great, but… what if something happens in the meantime? What if the cancer comes back and we don’t realize it? What if we just want the monthly reassurance we’d grown accustomed to?

Anxieties aside, James had achieved a remission. For multiple myeloma the word is regression. In other words, the disease is either in progression or regression. The phrase ‘cancer free’ is not applicable.

For the next fourteen months, James’ cancer remained in regression. I began to refer to our clinic appointments as a three-month visa renewal. Going to the clinic for check-ups only was like having a hall pass. No visits to the back room where the treatments were administered. Whoo and hoo.

These were the good old days in our cancer journey. We could forget about it. James was running on average five kilometres a day. He was the clinic’s Poster Boy for his positive attitude and level of activity.

This fourteen month hiatus came to an abrupt close after a ‘just to make sure’ x-ray revealed a hairline fracture in James’ right hip. The fracture was probably due to running every day for decades but it required immediate surgery. The real problem was alongside the fracture was a ‘lesion’. 

You see what I mean about the insidiousness of cancer? It was back. We were on the roller coaster.

The surgery to his hip meant that the nine-inch rod in his femur from the first surgery had to be removed and replaced with a seven-inch rod. I teased him about having to have his rod shortened.

Stay safe everyone.

Anne Milne is an every Sunday blogger.  Temporarily, this blog will be focussed on telling our cancer story. Please share if you know someone who may benefit. Facebook or Twitter.