Counting Down

So all this week my mom has been sending me little gifts and cards in the mail to mark the 10 day countdown to my last treatment. Today I got some gorgeous flowers delivered to the office. Who knew having cancer could be so fun?!?

No. But really. What does one think about the final week of treatment? A friend asked me the other day if I was worried. I hadn’t really thought of being worried at all until she asked. This whole last 7 months I haven’t been worried about what would happen after my last treatment. I mean…I got it straight from the horse’s (God’s) mouth that I had nothing to worry about so who’s to argue with God??? I figure if He says “I got this.” Then He’s got it.

So this whole time I’ve just been focused on staying healthy (physically and mentally) and paying my bills. But isn’t it interesting how the power of suggestion works? Through that one little question I have been a little worried this week. I suppose everyone has that nagging feeling towards the end of treatment…”what if it didn’t work?” and “what if I have to do this again?” and “how much more of this am I really willing to take?”

I won’t deny the fact that I’ve entertained the “how much more of this am I really willing to take” question. I have. I’ve entertained it a lot. Hell…I’ve made frickin’ balloon animals for it. But I have yet to come up with a distinct answer to that question. Compared to so many people I’ve talked to or heard about, I’ve had a relatively easy go of it. I think because of my age and my general good health…chemo has taken very little outward showing toll on me. I’ve managed to work through it and with the exception of a couple of days post treatment where I had to leave work a little early…I haven’t missed ANY work since my surgeries. Treatments may have slowed me down but they certainly haven’t brought me to a screeching halt.

That being said I guess I would endure whatever it takes to keep me healthy and “hopefully” cancer free. I say that…but sometimes in the dark moments when you’re fumbling around trying to find a clean trash can so you can spit the bile in it that keeps washing into your mouth like frickin’ Malibu at high tide and you’re just praying that the tea and Cinnamon Teddy grams stave off the nausea just a wee bit longer…the alternative doesn’t sound so bad.

Man! This blog entry took a turn for the depressing didn’t it! Geez. Well heretofore no more depression. I will gaze at my gorgeous flowers and ponder what kind of head gear to wear on Friday. It’s between a tiara and some sort of fun party hat. I kind of wish I still had my giant green felt hat from St. Patrick’s Day last year. That would be fun to wear. Oh well ceste la vie!

Anywho…here’s to the FINAL treatment this weekend! Everyone keep your fingers crossed and think happy thoughts this Friday and over the weekend. 