The Results Are In!

I still haven’t seen the actual scans—and I’m okay with that.
I started to ask, then decided not to. I finally saw the Doc yesterday for my follow-up visit after the second set of scans. This is the one where they tell you how treatment’s going and what comes next.

As far as what the scan results showed? I’d already cheated and pretty much knew the answer. I had dropped the report—one I couldn’t make heads or tails of—into AI, my Simple Bot, and got the straight-up version. Sure, I wondered if the Simple Bot was right, and yesterday it felt like the human version of it was telling me the exact same thing I was told last Wednesday.

It really is something to think about… this AI stuff and where it’s going to lead.

The Doc seemed… excited. Which I’ll take—especially when they’re supposed to keep emotions out of it. She kept saying “major improvement” over and over, followed by “but you’re not in remission.”
I already knew remission was unlikely, so that part is what it is. But major improvement was the best-case hope, and that’s exactly what I got.

Long story short: chemo cleaned a lot up, and I’ll probably be around long enough for life to stay tricky for a while.
Now I’ve just got a few more balls to juggle (I’m going to avoid the obvious sarcastic play on words there—wonder if you can).

This whole cancer thing is strange.
Time either drags forever or flies past like lightning. You shift gears constantly, and it’s hard to keep any direction locked in for long.
Maybe—maybe—with the scan results and a clear plan from 631, I can hold onto a direction that sticks around for a while.

Here’s the deal:
My PSA is where it’s supposed to be, and as long as it stays there, I’ll continue on Nubeqa (blocks the hormones cancer feeds on) and Lupron (shuts those hormones down at the source). My trips to 631 are being cut by 75%. Now it’s just once a month for labs and a quick chat. I’m officially in the maintenance phase—the stage they said from the beginning we were working toward.

Now, we just watch and wait to make sure nothing sneaks back in. PSA becomes my early warning system.

I did ask questions yesterday. I got vague answers. Even when I pushed, I basically got:

• “It looked good.”

• “Continue what you’re doing.”

• “Live as normal.”

That last one? Hilarious. I have no idea what “normal” even means anymore—but sure, let’s live like that.

Doc basically said the same thing the Simple Bot told me, and I told Simple Bot that we were all on the same page. The response I got back...

🟢 “It looked good.”
That’s their way of saying:
The treatment’s doing what it’s supposed to. We’re not changing a damn thing because it’s working.
They don’t throw parties or high-fives—just keep it neutral so nobody runs out and buys a victory cigar. (You especially, smartass 😄.)

We are entering a very strange time with all of this.

Once again, I’m transitioning—and there’s been a whole damn lot of that in the past 8 months. But maybe this one can settle in for a while. The weird part? It feels like I’m about to map out a much longer stretch of Highway 33 than anything I’ve done so far. One that might not have an exit for a while.

Gonna have to think this one through.

The team over at 631 has done their part. Now we keep watch. I was told to quit smoking (in the process of that now) and to lose 30 pounds (currently laughing at that one).

I left 631 knowing I didn’t get a clean bill of health.
I got a “keep going.”
They didn’t say the fight was over.
But they didn’t say it wasn’t, either.

There’s a huge mental shift coming, I can feel it.
I’m transitioning from Fighter to Survivor—and if I manage to kick this smoking thing, I’m probably gonna have a whole lot of extra time on my hands.

I’ll save those thoughts for tomorrow.

The chemo is done.
The scans improved.
My body’s not fighting like hell anymore…

But my mind doesn’t know how to turn that off.

—A Simple Man