Chemo 4 Surgeries 3 Radiation 33 Linda Won!

It is finished. It's been almost six months to the day that I was diagnosed back in early July. It seems like it was just yesterday but feels like it's been my entire life. Dad and Mom both came with me this morning. It was the worst driving conditions for Dad today of the whole ordeal with lots of snow and ice. I don't think he is going to miss the three hour commute we had each day. I know I never would have been able to do what I have done without him and Mom taking care of me. And I am really going to miss them. The staff was great at the cancer center with everyone coming around to congratulate me. They gave me a certificate that everyone signed, a book on what's next for me as a cancer survivor who has finished treatment, and an african violet. I don't have to go back until February 10th for meetings with each of my oncologists. In all I missed four days of work for surgeries, four days for chemo treatment days, four days from chemo pain, and a couple of half days from radiation fatigue.

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A lot has happened in my life in the past six months. Not all of it cancer related - believe it or not. I've gained a wonderful relationship with someone who is smarter than me if can you believe that :), started a fun challenging new job, moved into a comfy house with the perfect back yard, have four new scars, gained a huge appreciation for health care workers, explored some beautiful areas of Arizona and Utah, for the first time ever I used up all of my sick days at work, moved away from friends that I still miss terribly every single day, lost all of the hair on my body, look ten years older, felt more physical pain than I thought I could bear, heard some great new songs with lyrics that seemed written for me("December never felt so wrong"), learned that no matter how badly I felt for myself there are so many out there with much bigger struggles, first saw Charlie and Candy Mountain, went from the scared new girl to the wizened old timer in the radiation waiting room, brought home hundreds of cards of support from the post office, reaffirmed what a fantastically supportive family I am blessed to have, wrote checks for thousands of dollars, was bamboozled, made new friends (thanks chemo angels Linda and Cindy!), hated every single stinkin' second of being bald, gained weight, then lost some of the gained weight, learned way more than I ever dreamed about breast cancer, read lots of books, wrote lots of long wordy blogs like this one, felt pretty good about myself and all that I have and will accomplish, was blown away by all the support I received, gained an appreciation for every day that is not a chemo day, learned to wear hats, kept ignoring the elephant, and learned for a fact that laughter really is the best medicine.

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I was going to quit writing this blog in the next few days. I have even decided the opening and ending lines of the final blog. But I've got a few more pictures to post and a few more thoughts about cancer rattling around in my head. So, I think you are stuck with me for a little while longer anyway.

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.