It’s been five years. Do I still need my Doctor?

Today was scan day. After the typical chest and leg X-ray, I rode Passenger Princess to the cancer center for my results. With my iced latte in hand, I walked in as calm as one can be while entering a traumatic space from their past. My Doctor said everything looks good, no evidence of disease, and I have officially graduated to the point where I only need to see him once a year moving forward. WOOP! But then he casually mentioned he may be retiring within the next year, so I will need to follow up with one of his partners. And that's when I almost fell out of my chair.

So many thoughts went through my head as I processed this information. I love my Doctor. He listens to my concerns and has extensive knowledge on the very rare form of Osteosarcoma I had TWICE. Is someone else local going to know how to treat me? After a very brief moment of panic, I remembered that I don't have cancer anymore, and it's been the full five years since the amputation surgery that cured me. I have had fully clean scans ever since. Sure, with cancer, there is no guarantee that remission is forever. But I am in the best possible place with my healing and have learned over time to spend less time worrying about it coming back and more time using all the bonus time I have to the fullest. My cancer center is well regarded, despite the wait times at the downtown location and the 90's furniture and wall art. My Doctor's partners are capable, and if needed, I will travel where I need to for care because I'm blessed to be in a position where I'm able to do so. Basically, there is no need to fall out of my chair and I wouldn't wait to scratch my shiny gold glitter prosthetic anyway.

I am grateful that Dr. Scarburough was with me through the last five years when I truly needed him. First, through an above-the-knee amputation, then a revision surgery, and a handful of recurrence scares. He got me to this point where I am today, and I can only hope other people dealing with Osteosarcoma and other rare cancers can be as lucky to find someone like him. No one deserves retirement more, truly.

Dear Dr. Scarburough, I used to think that we were forever, ever and I used to say, "never say never". I mean this in the nicest possible way: I hope I never need you again. Like ever.

 Sincerely,

Taylor Swift's biggest one-legged fan.