My Last Chemo

Woo-Freaking-Hoo!

I had my last chemo on Thursday. I'd like to say it was life altering or prophetic or something, but it wasn't. It was like every other chemo. I waslked in, got weighed, asked for my two warm blankies, settled in to my lounge chair and away I went. I slept the whole time practically. When I did wake up, I had to pee. Benadryl and fluids... go figure.

The only excitement was the woman sitting next to me. It was the first time anyone was sick in the chemo room. Like pukey pukersons. And she was si-ick. She made the comment that just thinking about the flush in her port made her puke. That blows. I wanted to say something- tell her it would be okay, see if she needed to talk.

But I didn't. I didn't say anything. I slept instead. And I felt a little guilty. I mean, I was never that sick. Maybe I'm lucky. But I do know what it is like to feel that miserable. And I know what it's like to be thankful someone reached out. Next time I will. And I'm sure there will be a next time. Unfortunately.

I walked out of that chemo room with a smile on my face. I'm done with chemo. The hard part's over. But I can't help worry that I'll end up back there again. I'm not sure if that fear will ever go away. And maybe it's because of that fear that I don't feel as happy or as free as I thought I would. Maybe because I'm not done with treatment. Maybe it's because I'll still have side effects of the chemo for a while. Maybe it's because breast cancer is a sneaky little bitch and you're never actually "cured" or "in remission." Nobody knows if it's actually gone.

And that sucks. But we celebrate what we can. We enjoy the milestones when we hit them. So I will.