72 HOURS AWAY

January 23, 2010 Saturday

I am 72 hours away from my last chemo treatment. The finish line is in site. I plan on bringing my camera and my son's Flip camera to document the last treatment.

Things I will miss about chemo

1. The free massage

2. Sarah, my chemo nurse

3. Nothing else

Things I look forward to after chemo

1. A tall glass of Orange Juice

2. Pizza

3. Mexican Food

4. My hair growing back, except for the areas I have to shave, i.e. legs and armpits...

5. Not being tired.

6. Dancing

7. Not being afraid of getting sick

8. Not having the bathroom as the most visited room in the house

9. Getting back to LIFE!

I did a lot of paperwork yesterday, boy am I behind. YIKES! Mountains of things to address that require my full brain. As anyone who has gone through chemo will tell you, "Chemo Brain" is real, and very frustrating. I forget simple words, ideas, and tasks. I've given in to it because I know it's temporary, but man oh man, am I over it. So are the kids. They are so use to me being on top of everything, but now I'm a Swiss cheese head, with details slipping away everyday. Lists are my friend, if I can remember where I put them. lol I'm like the Uncle in "It's a Wonderful Life" I have the string tied to my finger and that's great; I know I should remember something important, if only I can remember what it is that's so Damn important.

Three weeks from now, I'll have my brain back. Yipee!!!

The new leg of the journey will begin soon enough ~ Radiation. I have to meet with the Radiation Oncologist and find out when that chapter begins. I'm nervous about it, but know that I can get through it.

I miss my daughter so much, and really want to just jump on a plane for California, but finances hold me back, as well as the continued Herceptin treatment. Just one more frustration I have to push away, and accept. She'll be home soon enough to visit and I will be so glad to just sit in the same room with her. I'm truly happy for her success, and couldn't be prouder of her doing so well at such a young age, but somehow it feels it happened so quickly I didn't get to say goodbye, good luck and Safe Home. She was just gone one day. Enough. I won't dwell on it.

It's the last dance with poison, the last chemo, the last weeks of feeling disconnected, and crappy. Spring is coming, and I will blossom like the cherry trees of D.C. and be full of joy.

Nite!

Light and Love!

Melissa