I went back to the operating room shortly after the New Year to definitively address the healing issues of my hepatic pump incision. It turns out that the initial positioning of this annoying hockey puck was a location where I only had a thin layer of overlaying skin which could not handle the tension. My surgeon exchanged the device for a new one and placed it lower down in my abdomen, with a much better result. The healing is going very well and I feel like I can move forward again.

Days before this surgery, I had a repeat CT scan of my chest/abdomen/pelvis. For those of you who have not experienced the joy of intravenous contrast, the sensation to pee one’s pants upon injection is not as riveting as it sounds. Urinary commentary aside, I am happy to report that my scan showed no signs of cancer recurrence.

After a brief break post-surgery, I am back on the chemotherapy horse (A horse with no name, but FYI the horse I rode on my wedding was Tina and she loved carrots.). I will have just one more dose of intrahepatic/regional treatment. My liver has been tolerating this well and I was informed that I can enjoy some cocktails again soon. However, my relationship with alcohol will be forever changed. I think that the period of lusty infatuation will transition to a mutually respectful friendship in which we occasionally make out.

I expected that my chemotherapy would continue well into April, but I was pleasantly surprised to hear from my oncologist that based on my current response to treatment/surgery, I can expect to be finished in the second half of March. This is excellent news which we are still digesting. I feel like I can finally start looking ahead to my new normal.

My attention now shifts to teeing myself up to be a functional and safe anesthesiologist again. I started acupuncture, which has improved the residual neuropathy in my fingers and feet. I have been speaking to a therapist who has offered me strategies on how to make what I have learned in this journey into a tool, not something to be buried away and forgotten.

I already miss my children. I have spent more time with them these past eight months than I could have ever expected. Granted, I spend many of those hours chasing after them with a dust pan and broom and the bedtime routine often sucks. But when I go back to sneaking out of the house before the sun rises, I will miss making their breakfast, hearing them chat to themselves while waiting for Sapana to open their doors, kissing them on the head before they go to the bus.

Sapana and I are going to Turks and Caicos for a few days at the end of February. We initially had wanted to hold off on a trip until I was finished with treatment but we have come to realize that ending chemotherapy is not a bookend to the journey; rather, a sizable chapter will be complete. As such, we deserve to enjoy the fruits of our labor whenever possible.

Overall I am extremely optimistic about the next phase. In two weeks we participate in our Cycle for Survival event. I have been asked to say a few words there, which has forced me to reflect on that which has transpired more than I thought would be comfortable. I hope I can get through it without choking up but like everything else up to this point, I, we, will figure it out.

~Sachin