My oncologist is such a laid back guy. Getting cancer test results from him is less stressful then getting the results of your inspection from the car mechanic. I went to see him yesterday to get the results of a CAT scan I had to check and see if my two years of chemotherapy had done the job in taking care of my lymphoma. I went through the routine with the nurse of checking the vitals and the answering the barrage of questions:

"Any pain?" No.
"How are your bowels?" Good thanks, and yours?
"Any fatigue?" No.
"Appetite?" Too much of one.
"Any bleeding?" No.
"Okay the doctor will be right in." Thanks.

Then a few minutes later the knock and opening of the door and there's my oncologist who says hello, shakes my hand, says the CAT scan was good and then asks if I watched the Grammys.

"Yes. Yes I did," I say with a big grin on the inside.

We go on talking about music and all the while I keep thinking to myself, "I've won."

It's a bit surreal for me as this is the same office where my mother learned of her cancer diagnosis and lost her fight three months later. Now here I am two years after my diagnosis and it's under control. I'm not cancer free, since this is chronic and will likely come back, but I won the first round.

So now I have blood work every three months to check my progress. That's a hell of a lot better than a six hour infusion every two months. When it comes back we start round two of the fight, but now that I know how to win, my opponent doesn't stand a chance. Mom would be thrilled.