The scan results came back in July. After six cycles of chemotherapy, the lung nodules have shrunk by approximately 50%. The lymph nodes are responding. The CEA marker is down. By any clinical measure, cycle 6 worked.
And for three months—from August to November—I don't have to do chemo.
That should be great news. And it is. But here's the thing nobody tells you about cancer: even good news doesn't fix the fundamental problem. I still have incurable cancer. The break isn't a cure. It's a pause. And at some point—probably in November, probably sooner—chemo starts again.
The Bell-Ringing Celebration vs. The Reality
When you finish a round of chemo, people throw you a bell-ringing ceremony. Patients ring a bell. Nurses cheer. It's meant to celebrate. And it does, for about five minutes. Then you go home and realise that the thing you were fighting isn't gone. It's just smaller.
So I'm not celebrating that the cancer shrunk. I'm acknowledging that the treatment worked, and I'm grateful for that. But I'm also aware that this is reprieve, not recovery. There's a difference.
Using the Three Months Well
My oncologist introduced me to an integrated health specialist. Someone who understands oncology and complementary health—nutrition, stress management, sleep optimisation, supportive therapies. Not someone selling magic cures, but someone thinking about the whole picture.
I've overhauled everything. Nutrition first—working with a registered dietitian who understands chemo and recovery. Not restrictive, but intentional. Supplements I can actually justify scientifically: omega-3, vitamin D, targeted micronutrients based on blood work.
Sleep optimisation. Exercise programming—what I can actually do post-chemo, not what Instagram tells me I should do. Stress management through meditation and therapy. These are all unsexy, unglamorous, but they're what actually moves the needle.
I'm also still tracking obsessively. Building a knowledge base for when chemo comes back. When it does—and it will—I'm walking in with data from three months of health optimisation. I know what works for me. That matters.
The Honesty
I'm grateful. The scans are good. The break is real. I'm sleeping better, eating better, moving better. My body is healing from the poison we deliberately put in it.
But I'm also realistic. This isn't a happy ending. This is chapter two of a story that doesn't have an ending yet. Cancer is incurable—for me, in my stage, with the current medicine. That means chemo is going to be my reality for years, probably. On, off, on again.
So I'm using these three months to prepare for the next cycle. Not mentally—that's a different conversation. But practically. Understanding what helps, what doesn't, what my body needs to recover. Building resilience. Stacking every advantage I can find.
When November comes—or whenever the break ends—I'm not starting fresh. I'm continuing a process I've optimised as much as I can.
And that, I think, is the best use of remission.