I have only one chemo treatment left…August 5th is the day. Not only for me to sit in that chair one, last time and poison myself in the hopes that any floaty bits of cancer not cut out by the surgeon are getting curdled by Taxol, but also the last time I get to be that special, oh-so-carefully treated chemo patient. You know, the one the nurses all speak to with a veneer of chipper over pity. The one the volunteers urge countless lorna doones and pretzels on. The one who gets to go home afterwards and sit on the couch feeling sorry for herself and not at all guilty about not cutting the grass or letting her daughters watch 3 hours of Dr. Who and Glee every night. So yeah, I have radiation coming up, but supposedly that’s a walk in the park next to chemo. So August 5th its goodbye to the comforting bottles of ativin, oxycodone, compazine on my bedstand (as if the answer to any yucky side effect is only a screwtop away). Goodbye turkey bacon minis I buy for chemo-day breakfast from the Caribou Coffee I walk past on my way to Mayo. Goodbye hit-or-miss dinners delivered to my house by neighbors and choir members. Goodbye using the chemo-get-out-of-washing-dishes card on Naoto when I’m really just feeling lazy. Goodbye crazy, adjustable chemo chair, hot blankets brought on demand, and my mother willing to buy me anything I want for lunch when I sit in it.
Hello old, boring (and hopefully cancer-free) life. And, in a few months, hopefully hair.