Take a slow deep breath, as deep as you can, and hold it. Feel how your chest has expanded. Amazing, in’t it? What’s even more amazing is that we do this a bazillion times a day without thinking, actually, without even being aware that we are doing it.

Today, for the first time since the middle of July, I took that deep breath and felt my chest expand. The center-right of my chest– where the pneumonitis invaded– didn’t feel constrained or brittle; I didn’t cough. I could hold my breath. I could exhale slowly. It didn’t hurt.

I have been able to feel that right side loosen up bit by bit, especially after a session on my bike. Last week I realized I still didn’t know enough about pneumonitis– especially, how much I should be exercising, so I went on a hunt for more information. I learned that one of the most important things someone with pneumonitis, COPD, or other ILD (Interstitial Lung Disease) can do is <drumroll, please> exercise. (Thank you Pulmonary Critical Care and Sleep Medicine Consultants of Houston for posting this information!)

Yep. I read that last week and felt more determined than ever to keep going. Ever since my Come-to-Jesus moment with Dr. Oncology, when she asked me to reflect on why I was pushing to exercise intensely, I’ve lowered the intensity and length of my bike sessions. But after reading this web site, I felt like I could be a little looser. Because if you push too hard, as they say in the article, just slow down, catch your breath, and start again. What a revelation! But only lung people know this stuff– I probably should have connected with Dr. Pulmonology to untangle the asthma from the radiation-and/or-immunologic-pneumonitis….

Anyway. Back to that big, deep breath.  I practiced yesterday during my chest CT. Dr. Oncology wanted information to help decide about re-starting the immunology, tapering the steroids, etc., so into the CT machine I went. (Have I mentioned my new life goal is to glow in the dark spontaneously?) Today I had a video call with Dr. Oncology to discuss the results.

First, it was the first time I’ve seen her without a mask and her face does not look anything like I imagined! (This may be a bigger deal than even the results of the scan.)

Also, she thinks something-interesting-about-the-vertical-plane-of-the-right-lung, which none of us understood, except that it’s good. That poor lung will always be scarred; it may always feel kind of stiff. The scarring will also obscure any sign of the tumor. (Which is too bad, because, as I said to Dr. Oncology, I would like to have seen Dr. Radiology’s description of how a dying tumor collapses in on itself and turns into a sort-of scar. Dr. Oncology said, “Well, I’d like to imagine it’s gone.”)

And get this– the lymph nodes are even smaller than they were the last time! HA!

So, the steroid dosage is halved again, through Sunday, when I halve the dosage a final time. I’ll be off those suckers by the end of next week. WAHOO! Maybe I’ll stop wanting to eat everything that isn’t tied down.

AND, since the steroid level is in a lower zone, I can restart immunotherapy tomorrow. (This has its good points and its bad– nice to get back on track with helping my immune system sideswipe the cancer, but it takes f o r e v e r. )

AND, she thinks I’m in the CDC’s “bucket” of immunocompromised people, so I go for my third Covid shot on Saturday.

You know what my secret happiness is, though? Soon I will be able to ride my bicycle outside. Because, baby, I can take plenty of deep, deep breaths. And that’s pretty grand.

Thanks for reading.

Nose by Mylene2401 from Pixabay

Bicycling by MJ Jin from Pixabay