I went to the urologist this morning, and I'm still free of bladder cancer. My doctor said if the cancer hasn't returned by about October, 2013-- three years after my first surgery-- the TB treatments I get to try to keep the cancer from returning will end. and I'll only need periodic scopes after that to make sure the cancer is still gone.
Today, I also got the first treatment in my next set of three-- one today, one next week, and one the week after that. It's no fun. Not only are the treatments themselves difficult and painful for me, but they make my urination painful and so urgent over the next three days or so that I have to wear Depends. I often wet myself, as I have this afternoon, because the urge comes on me too quickly, too searingly, for anybody to get here and take me to the toilet.
Cerebral palsy limits my muscle control, but I've always prided myself on controlling what I could. These treatments rob me of some of that. I hate it. I hate the pain. I hate the mess and extra work for those who take care of my physical needs. I hate being in even less control of my own body than I usually am.
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