Last week, on Wednesday, August 24, I had my 4th and hopefully, final, chemo infusion. On one hand, it seemed like this had been the longest summer in history and on the other, I couldn't believe how quickly it had flown by.
Chemo and cancer is like that for lots of folks I have talked to. It's overwhelming and in the middle of everything and every decision and thought and emotion, making so many things more difficult and heavier and pricked with that nagging "I have cancer" in the back of your mind. But life goes on, so all the heaviness and difficulty and newness and adjustments are coupled with all the stuff that just has to happen - making time seem short...
...and don't get me started about the obvious "time is short" part of discovering you have cancer...
...and before I knew it - I was making my Countdown To Chemo Checklist and adding things to my calendar to make sure I was prepared for my very last Chemo!
Which brings me to "When CANCER became Cancer".
When this hit my family - everything stopped. So much needed to be learned and heard and appointments were strange and full of words and terminology that we had never even thought of before...we went en masse. We scheduled everything to make sure everyone was available and there and we all had notepads and sharpened pencils and questions prepared and research done.
And then CANCER became our new reality. And life went on.
People are amazing and they care deeply. They want to make sure you have all the time and resources you need when you are going through something like this, but it's not their something. They forget.
Heck, I forget other people's stuff all the time. And I feel terrible - even though no one ever MAKES me feel terrible. People (at least me) are a little bit thankful when you forget their stuff - it makes us feel a little less terrible about forgetting your stuff!
My point in all that is - no one is going to have my cancer at the top of their 'things to remember and schedule around' list. Not my husband's job, not my kids' school or activities or friends or my doctors or anyone but us.
And that means, it's just not practical to think every appointment and chemo week and chemo session and nuelasta shot or prescription pick up is going to be set up to be a family affair.
That first treatment - we were like the Russian Synchronized Swimming Team at this year's Summer Olympics. This time - we were Martin Short and Harry Shearer on SNL...without the nose clip! The first time, everyone had their job, their responsibility and we reviewed and discussed each step and expectation. Things were planned and organized and executed precisely.
This time, well...this time, it was the 4th time. We knew what to do. We didn't "need" lists - we were experts. I've always said, I would have Chemo NAILED by the time I was done with it. And I really did! The Chemo Countdown Checklist. The Chemo Cold Cap Bag. The Chemo Day Kit. The Tricks, the props, the preparation.
But life got busy. The kids went back to school. I am tough.
So, I not only called in my prescriptions, I picked them up. I called in and arranged and drove down and picked up the dry ice by myself...and backed up that terrifying ramp without anyone to encourage or praise me or at least laugh at my pitiful, yet somehow impressive attempt! I had to organize friends to be my Chemo Buddy on the day of. I packed my own bag with my own checklist and it wasn't a big deal. No need to review the list or double check the bag or stare down at the contents and hold hands...I got this!
Truth be told - I did a little bit of thumb-sucking early last week. This was a milestone. A finish line. Something I was about to conquer and (not surprising) I wanted to slay it. And (also not surprising) I was still scared. Chemo for me has been difficult. The day is a blur and the meds make me out of body and I count on my Dream Team to protect me fiercely and make sure there is nothing extra to add to the hard.
But, I am also a realist and know that this had been a long, hard summer and CANCER has gotten in the way of a lot of things. I never dreamed I wouldn't be able to work - who knew the taste bud and exhaustion thing would be what it was for me? I never dreamed there would be days when I just didn't feel safe behind the wheel of my car?...but man, oh man - You're Welcome North Fort Worth!!! Who knew Ninja Fatigue would be so Ninja and so relentless?
I went to my last oncologist appointment alone - because at this point - it's kind of just a formality. I am doing well. I have been praised out loud for my white blood counts and my numbers and the fact that I keep moving and that I am keeping track and asking questions and not needing the narcotics and have gotten control over some of the less-pleasant-to-talk-about parts of chemo through my diet and kicking in the water and chomping ice and water-picking and the gift of being able to rest and not push myself most times through this battle. (I learned a bit of a lesson I will share at some point about pushing myself...but that is story for a different day)
I did as much as I could the day BEFORE chemo to make the last Chemo as effortless and stress-free as possible. Appointments scheduled...check! Hateful shrew dealt with...check! Payment made...check! Radiation conversation started...check!
So, for this last Chemo, CANCER had to become Cancer.
It was Chemo Day, but I still had to set my alarm and get the kiddos moving and make lunches and obsessively remind and make sure everyone got where they needed to be on time, all while trying to organize a Dream Team picture - that was only important to me and not really that important at all. It was something I built up and had to let go of. I have learned that my mental state - my zen, if you will, is the most important thing I pack in my Chemo Kit!
I went over my check list and rifled through my bags and said a quick prayer that I had managed to get everything important (I was thinking CRUCIAL at the time) into the bright pink polka dot bag. I texted my Chemo Buddies and tried to not stress out when we left 6 minutes late (at least I remembered to hug the kids) and tried not to feel sorry for myself when they were more concerned about their new high school schedules than my last chemo - because, have I mentioned, I am tough and they know it! I remembered to take my pre-meds at the almost exact right time before we left. I gave the dogs a belly rub for luck as we walked out the door. We got stuck in traffic, but not STUCK IN TRAFFIC, we got a premium parking spot, I didn't spill anything or drop anything or cry on the way. I carried things this time - because I could and it was necessary and when my sweet husband offered to drop me off and make two trips I told him absolutely not!
My phone was full of beautiful texts and messages and verses and pictures from my wonderful friends and family. My room was ready. There was no drama at the desk. The crushed ice machine was working beautifully. My beautiful friend, Lisa was coming through the doors to hold my hand while Patrick did the mechanics of the Cold Caps. My nurse was Bart, which felt like a wonderful sign of a good last chemo. I did manage to get everything I needed into the Chemo Kit and the set up was effortless. I felt more in control of the appointment than in the past - asking questions and confirming details instead of panicking and leaving it to Patrick or chance ... I mean, we were old pros at this!
But it was weird. Not having my family all there. Asking people who I love for this level of help. To be a part of something pretty raw for me. To show a weakness and fear and ugliness that I would prefer the world not see in quite that bright a light.
As always, those around me were the stars of Chemo #4. Efficient and strong and organized. All I had to do was survive in my zen. To stay in the calmest version of me that I could muster for those nearly 8 hours.
The medications do all sorts of bizarre things to me - I drift in and out of la-la land. I burst into sweat. I freeze from the inside. I make sounds. I require touch. I look ridiculous. I need my heroin...which is really just a square of Hershey's chocolate on my tongue during the first minute of every cold cap...and Yes, that is 18 squares of chocolate...nearly 2 full Hershey bars! Don't tell me sugar isn't a drug! I need my crushed ice, my Sprite, Spot, the yellow heart pillow, the electric blanket, my phone, my socks. I was also armed with my #thebadassissilent t-shirt, a sense of humor, a sense of accomplishment, less fear, a confidence in Patrick's face and the newness of friends at my appointment - like entertaining, but MUCH weirder!
And all of that is probably enough to say that CANCER became Cancer on my last appointment, but the scale-tipper was when my husband actually had to leave before we were done. His hand was infected - and he still managed to do all the manual, difficult work of the Chemo Cold Caps but he needed to see a doctor. The nurses at Texas Oncology all agreed it was important for him to get in to get some antibiotics asap. Well, we wouldn't be finished until most doctors were closing up shop. So, my fabulous friend Lisa babysat me and made me laugh while he made an appointment before her Chemo Dream Team shift ended. And the Amazing Amy got trained to be a Chemo Cold Cap expert in about 10 minutes near the end of her Dream Team duty and I actually managed to get through the end of Chemo #4 as a somewhat active participant.
I have always been pretty out of it during all the appointments. But this time, I helped (Amy may argue this point) pack up and tidy the room and rub my own pressure points to ease the nausea and administer my own Hershey's heroin and hold my own Sprite and adjust my own blankets during the last 2 caps...which was really only about the last hour. I carried things again. I managed to get to and into her car. I got into my own house - I have no idea how or if anyone else was even home, but clearly I made it!
And it was, by far, the easiest of all the treatments. Familiarity, knowledge, experience, support, faith, some luck and an amazing team of family and friends made it easy. And, as thumb-sucky as I was about it not being everyone's number one priority and for the world not stopping for me and my chemo...I think that really added to the ease. People get cancer all the time. The infusion room is always busy. This is a part of so many lives. And the world goes on - at least that's what I'm counting on. And the more normal bits of time you can have in the middle of it all - the less stressful it feels. And for me, less stress equals strength and a much better ability to cope and be tough and adapt and plow through.
And the next day, I got my favorite neighbor, Cheryl, the one who cracks me up and gets me and takes nothing too seriously (unless it's about our kids) drove me to my Nuelasta shot/fluids appointment and was with me when I rang the "I Finished Chemo" bell and I got my graduation T-shirt.
Monday, I go for my radiation consult so I can move into Phase 3 of this Kicking Cancer's Butt Crusade that I am on.
I am weary and wobbly and seem to be experiencing ChemoBrain at a higher level than usual this week, but I rang the bell. I have the shirt. I have no more infusions on my appointment card and the Cold Caps are going back to Dallas on Thursday. So weary and wobbly it is, but DONE WITH CHEMO!
Thank you everyone for being with me throughout this journey and for all of your prayers and support and encouragement - God is good!
