Final chemo DONE!
I have my final chemo swishing around my body as I type this blog. Final chemo - done. Happy dance for me.
I expect the dex zing, the lack of sleep, foggy eyes, aching muscles, and I should forget the purging poohs, will all happen yet again in the next week and I will tick them off one by one as they pass. As the symptoms ease I write in my journal in my “chemo handwriting” and record their disappearance as a celebration. If ever I publish my journal I think I will call it “ The day my life became about shit”. Because it does in so many ways and on so many levels :P
Woke up with a headache, my second headache ever on chemo, “this bodes well I think (not)”. The first one was a knockout due to hormones and chemo I was told, this one due to muscle tightness I think. Off to chemo. Climb into "The Chair" for the last time. Make myself comfy with the pillow and blanket. Uncover the PICC line for the last time, uncover the good arm for blood and obs. And would you believe it, the PICC line behaves and gives the blood samples! Hasn't done this for the last 5 weeks but today it works beautifully. Celebration, no needles today. And off we go with the chemo routine.
My Oncologist bounces in singing “ So long, far well, aufiderzein, goodbye....” (in tune to my amateur ears). Taps me on the feet. Tells me I should drop in for a visit during the first or second day of radiation but otherwise unless there is more chaos, go home and get well. And then out he cruises humming away. OK then, so it shall be.
As I am sitting, I listen to the chatter around me. The lady next to me is having bone marrow transplant chemo. She has been in that chair for hours already and will be for hours more as she now needs a top up of blood and some more stuff. Then there is my other chemosaubie who is having a combination of drugs to help her through the combination of chemo. It is part of a trial as they seek to navigate her through to successful treatment of her cancer.
And I think, "How lucky am I?" I'm not putting it out there that I am free of cancer, but my treatment regime has been nothing compared to these strong women. I haven’t been "hurling like a pro" as one husband gleefully told the doctor when he came to speak with them. Nor have I had to deal with a raft of symptoms that requires a medical arsenal to provide some comfort. I have plodded through the chemo relatively unscathed. There have been some scary physical side effects but they have eased and will continue to do so. Psychologically I have had the most amazing support from family and friends and medical team and I feel although there have been moments of blue I am well.
And then I think, “I will miss these people”. The humour and strength that surrounds the patients and nursing staff is infectious. It has had such a positive effect on me during my treatments, no matter how awful the day became. I can see why people feel the withdrawal when they no longer get this top up every week or month. But then I think “I don’t ever want to see them again”. And I mean this in the nicest way.
So chemo on board, flush done, PICC line out, wait ten minutes and then off I go. I’d like to say goodbye to everyone but they are busy supporting others so I just wave and say “see you”. I have sent a chocolate bouquet with a message which I hope will express my gratitude to them all.
To celebrate the strong one and I head to the coffee shop and I have the second coffee in six months. An iced latte frappe. I savour the flavour, dairy and all. Tomorrow I return to the no dairy diet.
My final chemo is done. I now prepare for the daily zapping, or as one pink chick has put it the “toasting of tits”.
Onwards I go, but this time there will be a couple of wines and a surprise 50th for the strong one before my next clinic visit. Oh, and the planning of the WA Christmas adventure. What could go wrong J
