When I graduated high school, back in the wild days of the 80s, and my friends asked me to sign their yearbooks, I wrote the exact same thing in all of them. I wrote out the full lyrics to the song "I'm Free." I wasn't so much celebrating the end of my K-12 days as I was looking forward to moving to Colorado for college and getting out of what I then called "Amohalko," or Oklahoma spelled backwards. I've since developed a healthy dose of nostalgia for those days, but I'm still quite happy with my choices to move my life to Colorado at age 17.
I was chipper this morning when I got out of bed. I don't mean I had a ton of energy. That never happens. But I pushed past my usual soreness, put my good mood in the driver's seat, and immediately started making breakfast for me and the Mr. I wasn't about to show up on my last chemo treatment feeling groggy and starved. I made bacon and scrambled eggs and grits (just for me -- he never learned to like grits in all those years in the South). I had a cup of coffee, and played on my iPad over my meal, absolutely unable to remove the smile from my face. I have waited three months to get to this point. It's a fraction of what friends of mine have had to endure, but it was quite enough for me. It cost me my hair, and I was happy to let 20 pounds of fat go along with it (although the way it left was rough.) I dealt with a lot of pain, terrible taste in my mouth, fatigue, constant cough, and dangerously severe neutropenia. It taught me a lot of lessons, about being good to myself, being more understanding when I hear friends and acquaintances are going through cancer treatments, and discovering my limits and strengths. I'm ready not to feel like a burden to my immediate family. I want to get back to feeling capable again.
I got dropped off at the cancer center on time, and then the Mr went shopping in his usual haunts, finding reclaimed redwood for his cabin deck. I was okay with being alone for most of the infusion. The first thing they give you is Benadryl, and it makes you sleepy for the first hour or so. I tried to read, going over details for my next D&D character, and looking up symbols to use for an art project I'd like to get to in a few weeks. Instead, the Wi-Fi was lacking, and I just curled up under the pretty quilt my dad sent me, and I let my eyes blink for extended periods. I never totally fell asleep, but I was truly loopy. It went quickly, and they were already switching me to the last bag before I started texting my husband and child, letting them know my schedule. The Mr showed up when there was about 1/3 of the last drug left, and my daughter arrived when the IV machine started beeping that it was empty. Perfect timing.
They tidied me up to go home. The nurse was the type who just reached in and yanked the giant needle out of my port without warning. No, don't think bad things. I actually thanked her for not giving me a countdown, so I wasn't tense when the needle came out. I prefer it that way. Then, I packed up my bag while I waited for the Neulasta to snap the catheter into my arm (and it hurt this time, which was weird). Then we went to ring the gong. My daughter was there to take video, but she took it portrait style, not landscape. So from that angle, me in my tight yoga pants, I looked like an apple on toothpicks. I was going to post it online, but I haven't worked up the nerve yet. At the same time, the Mr took a still photo, from the waist up, and I'll put that on here. I thanked the nurses present for being fantastic humans, and then I walked out grinning.
I'm done. I'm free! And when I got home, they called from the outpatient surgery department to set up my appointment to remove the port. It comes out in a week and a half. They don't expect to give me any more treatments. There's a guy on Twitter who has a Friday tradition of asking everyone to name one good thing that happened to them this week. Of course I celebrated completing chemo. So happy to finally announce that!
congrats for finishing uo treatment my friend!
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