Filling the Space Between the 3’s

Three months. Ninety days. Twelve weeks. However I choose to count them, they all lead to the same place—the next scan. 

Living with ALK-positive lung cancer means living in three-month increments, measured by the space between scans. Every twelve weeks, my body undergoes a full evaluation, searching for signs of cancer’s return—its inevitable, eager attempt to reclaim its territory. My new medication, Alectinib, is designed to hold the line, to keep the battle in check, but it comes with its own trials—side effects that read like the fine print of a dystopian novel and a price tag that could purchase a small island. Over $20,000 a month to keep me here, walking, writing, living. 

Today is the first of many “3’s.” I return to Cleveland Clinic for scans following three months of chemotherapy. The words I long to hear are simple: No Evidence of Disease—NED, the golden acronym of hope. But this is just one milestone in a long journey, a game of endurance where the finish line constantly shifts. Today marks the start of the next cycle, the next stretch of time where the waiting begins again. 

And therein lies the challenge. 

How do I fill the space between the 3’s? 

So far, I have allowed these waiting periods be ruled by angst and apprehension. The in-between days become footnotes to the next scan, moments that pass without truly being lived. I don’t want that anymore. I want to learn how to embrace the days in between, to see them for what they are—not just a countdown, but time itself. I want to find a way to be present, to stop marking my life in increments of fear. 

This is the work of the journey. 

I don’t have a roadmap for this yet. Maybe I’ll find solace in writing, in laughter, in the way rain taps against the window on an otherwise ordinary afternoon. Maybe I’ll steal moments of peace in doggie snuggles, in watching Wes do something funny, in the magic of a hot cup of tea. Maybe I’ll simply learn to breathe—without waiting for the next breath to be stolen by worry. 

The space between the 3’s is mine to fill. 

And today, I choose to fill it with hope.