In this quest to rid myself of cancer, I've been stabbed, poisoned, and now burned. At this point, it seems the only thing left is to drive me out to a remote area and dump the body.
Okay-okay, I know. My brain knows that these last nine months have been life-saving. I know that I do NOT want to experience the alternative, and hope I never do. But sitting here, still bald, with scars and now a blistering purple-red boob, it's hard not to feel like I've spent the last year living within the pages of my own serial killer mystery novel.
It's been a long haul of tearing me down, bringing me back then tearing me down again, only to bring me back so they can tear me down just one more time. It's exhausting and I've had my melt-downs. It was Monday when the Petaluma radiology lab called to tell me their machine was broke and my treatments would need to be delayed two days. Now, understand that I've been looking at the calendar every day for six weeks now, staring at that ONE DAY when this would all be over. I've been counting down the number, crossing each day off the calendar. Now they were telling me that my golden day would be two days later because a machine broke. I went ballistic. From the halls of my office, I paced around while on the phone in tears. I told them if they couldn't move me to Santa Rosa for those two days, I wasn't extending my treatment. 9/19/17 is My Done Day, I'm not moving it out. So if that means they can't finish my treatments by then, I guess I just won't finish and I'll have to take my chances.
They called me back a few minutes later and said they would stay after hours to squeeze me in if I could get to Santa Rosa by 6:00. I did, and this morning I brought them all a big bunch of cookies along with apologies for being a butt. (If you didn't read my other blog post titled "Hug A Radiologist Today", go read it. They deserve appreciation!) These poor people are dealing with me at a time when I'm at the end of my rope, fed up and plum out of Good Sport Tokens. And they've been amazingly supportive and understanding.
But this has been a long haul. Lots of physical pain, emotional fear, frustration, worry, anxiety, not to mention missed opportunities and a year of sitting on the sidelines watching the rest of the world go by. But 9/19/17 is the day it all ends. That's my last radiation treatment and I'm following it up with 5 days away from work and doctors and everything that isn't just me taking a breath, kicking back and basking in the glory that this is all--finally--behind me.
I can't wait. 12 days and counting. I. Just. Can't. Wait.
