sweetisu

Five years ago today I completed the last of twelve chemotherapy sessions. Around 3 p.m. the big ass needle dripped the last drops of ABVD into my port-a-cath. (Which I highly recommend if, god forbidden, one needs to have any sort of prolonged therapy via IV).

Anyway, there I lay on the single bed, in a private chemo room, with my eyes completely shut. Desperately trying to make myself believe I was anywhere BUT there, without any success of course. My darling husband sitting next to me, as he always accompanied me to all of my appointments, and a Lorrie Line CD playing in the background.

It was a day of very mixed emotions. I didn't need to have anymore chemo after today! The joy of that very thought was immensely pleasing. On the other hand, I also knew there would be at least 6 days of hell in the immediate future. Bedridden, nonstop barfing, and if I'm lucky to feel good enough, I'll get to have one (maybe even two!) showers. BUT, this is the last time going through the Six Days of Hell! THE last!

There was a sense of finality. I also felt scared. What if all those chemo didn't rid the cancer completely? (I came to find out it did not and for a short while, there was talk of adding 4 more chemo sessions but in the end, I had radiation therapy to "top it off" instead). What if I needed another treatment protocol that's even more potent / makes me more sick / leaves me infertile? It was dreadful to even imagine any of it. Back then, I tried hard not to think of tomorrow, the week after, or next month. We only made plans of any sort a week in advance at the most — anything further than that was overwhelming — I mean, how are we to know whether I'll even be alive 2 months from now?

I never thought I would be where I am five years later, still alive and in remission, and best of all, have two beautiful healthy children. Life is better than I have imagined. Much better.

When you're in the thick of going through something rough, it's very hard to see above the forest for a sign of rescue. You just have to keep going, keep moving forward, keep believing that someday you will see the blue sky again. It's nearly impossible sometimes, but the alternative doesn't seem to be acceptable. Let the ones you love and those who love you be reminders for you to keep going.

This entry was posted on Wednesday, May 17th, 2006 at 10:50 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.