My doctor said it was too risky for me to have my last treatment. She said I could loose feeling in my fingers permanently. Right now they are just numb at the tips and I have a good chance of getting full feeling back. She decided it was time to cut my losses and skip the last treatment.
The nurses gathered together and wished me well. They gave me a bottle of sparkling cider and told me to go celebrate. It was bittersweet to tell them goodbye. They've been a big part of my life.
We celebrated at Starbucks with the cookie and mint tea that Chris usually delivers to me during my treatment.
I had very mixed feelings ending chemo. On the one hand, I was glad to be done. On the other hand, I hated not finishing. Being done with chemo feels weird. I have been fighting for 7 months. The fight is over now. I am afraid to end the fight. I've never been one to sit tight and hope that nothing bad happens. That's precisely what I have to do now. There is a lot of fear associated with ending treatment.
There is also a lot of relief. Today was the first Saturday in months I was able to participate in life. I am still exhausted, but I'm not crashed like I normally am. It will be a long time before I am back to normal, whatever that is, but at least I'm on the up side of things now.
When I started Taxol, which comprised my last 12 treatments (or I guess it was only 11 with the skipped one), I started a countdown on the wall of my cubicle. I took a selfie every week as I took down a number... at least after the first one. Anyway, here's my countdown. I got a little sicker every week. Now I get to do that process in reverse.
It's hard to look at those pictures. And not just because I suck at taking selfies. I don't want to remember how sick I was, and still am. But I need to remember because I need to appreciate health when it returns.
I've been getting a lot of questions about what comes next. I can't have hormonal therapies (tamoxofin or herceptin) because my cancer was triple negative. I won't have scans unless my doctor feels the need to investigate something. I will get blood tests every few months to monitor tumor markers and liver and kidney health. I also will have a surgery in a couple months to finalize my reconstruction.
I am told that my immune system will be back in a couple of weeks. I am told that my anemia will be gone in a couple of months. I am told that my hair will be long enough in 6 months that I won't even look like a cancer patient anymore. I am told the fear gets less as time goes on, but it never goes away.
My oncologist says my job is to life my life now. It won't be easy, but I am going to try.
