The End is Tantalizingly Close

Only six more radiation treatments left. Six. 1,2,3,4,5,SIX! That seems like nothing compared to thirty-three. In November, thirty-three just seemed to be so insurmountable. I couldn’t even imagine making it to the end of thirty-three. Six seems so doable. When I reach out to six, it is right there at the end of my finger tips. Tantalizingly close. But as much as I stretch for it, still out of reach. Six should feel like a number I could do in my sleep with both hands and a foot tied behind my back. But when I start to think that this adventure might be over, six seems huge. Huge mentally. I want to be excited to be finished but I almost don’t want to jinx it. I don’t want to assume that I can finally go back to being Linda and then find out she’s not at all able to come back yet or not at all. I want “normal" not a “new normal”. I wish I could write all sorts of triumphant blogs; “what I learned from cancer”, "what’s next for Linda - a vacation!”, “I didn’t get an A but at least I didn’t fail cancer”, “I am grateful to all my friends and family for being there with me”, etc. I should be able to spend the next month writing happy future facing blogs. But instead every time I think about finishing my cancer treatment I mentally freeze up and physically start holding my breath. I’d like to say that I don’t start to wonder if maybe I’m not done forever or that I don’t worry that maybe I didn’t make the best treatment decisions. But I do. Not much but I do worry. I worry about all sorts of things but mostly I worry about my health in the future. If I have a recurrence and have to go through this again it is a whole new ballgame. Will I have the strength to do it all again? No idea. Seriously – none. I still can’t believe I walked back into that chemo room three more times after I knew what was going to happen. Yeah – just now took my breath away just thinking about it. I just so want this done – wholly totally utterly outright entirely finally absolutely forever done. So, I’ll be sitting here holding my breath for the next week and a half. Six. Such a little number.