Ummmm:
The oncology department at my local hospital doesn't seem to like referring to 'stages'. I've never heard the word 'stage' used in any conversation with me, nor in any overheard converstations between staff and other patients.
However, if you force me to use that labelling system, I suppose that it has to be 'Stage 3', in that I've got prostate cancer that's spread to my bones and my lymph glands. It's classed as 'incurable but treatable'.
When I asked the nurse who's my first point of contact with the hospital if I'd still be here in a year's time, I said that if his answer was to be 'No' I'd need to think about getting someone to look after my cats. His reply was "Go and get another cat; you'll probably outlive it!" So it looks as if ABers might have to put up with me for a while longer yet ;-)
I'm on hormone treatment as well as undergoing chemo, with ladies' HRT patches affixed to my limbs. (Yes, really! They're not 'similar to' HRT patches; they actually 'are' HRT patches!). That will continue when the chemo ends. (Today was my 4th session out of an initial 6. There's quite a good chance, it seems, that's all I'll need but there's a smallish possibility of me needing a few more sessions).
RC:
I don't suppose that I'll ever get the 'all clear', as such, but simply coming out of the 'sheltered' category (for Covid-19 protection) will do me nicely. It means that, when the pubs finally reopen, I'll be able to join my mates for a pint ;-)