Wednesday, January 10, 2007

Not with a Bang...

{Please note: This is my final post. Since this blog is about my chemotherapy (not my cancer), and that part of my treatment is over, this blog is complete as well.}

It's over. No fireworks, no parade,
not even a hearty handclasp.

I showed up for my final chemo appointment, had a few extra pokes during the preliminary blood test—"Your veins are very hard to work with, seƱor"—and, an hour later, an oncology nurse informed me that I was so anemic my chemo was cancelled.

And that was that.

I got a shot of Procrit and was sent home. My combination of drugs was very toxic; missing a couple of sessions was factored into the treatment from the start, so this wasn't entirely unexpected. What was unexpected—at least by me--was the surreal feeling of relief (understandable) tinged with an inexplicable feeling of uncertainty and doubt (I really wanted to finish the entire course of treatment, damnit--I do not want the cancer to return. I didn't much care for it the first time, and I'd probably hate it even more the second time).

While I'm still struggling with some of the side effects of the surgery and the chemotherapy, there has been a lot of progress and I feel better every day. My appetite is back to normal, my hair is starting to grow back (although I still don't have any eyelashes), and the metallic taste in my mouth is gone. No more nausea, no more fatigue.

I have an appointment at USC in February for a full exam, but I don't think they'll find anything. As far as I'm concerned, I'm cured. Five years is the estimate they like to give for being out of the woods, and I've been clean for seven months.

Five years? I can do that standing on my head.