Last chemo Nov. 1

Dr. Isaacs said it’s normal to feel down after this is all over and everyone is expecting you to just move on. I wasn’t expecting it, but when I gave the Dr. and my nurses hugs on the last day, I broke down crying so hard. Jim looked slightly confused by my melt down. It does seem like  the last day of chemo is supposed to be a happy day, but it’s actually bittersweet in a strange way. The doctors and nurses really know what you are going through and everyone is so focused on healing you. I am really going to miss my crew at Georgetown and having all the support. Dr. Isaacs, Karra and Lilly you are terrific, I won’t miss the chemo, but I will miss you. See you in 3 months.

The last chemo was actually pretty rough. The fatigue hit earlier and stayed longer. I felt like a weird creature that was going through a painful molting process. Everyone wanted to celebrate right away but I really wasn’t ready. I did keep putting one foot in front of the other, and gradually, I started coming through the haze.

I need to give a special shout out to my parents “my skeleton crew.” Not only are they the best parents anyone could ask for, they live close by, and they are retired. This is very helpful during chemo. Thanks Ma and D.O.D (Dear Old Dad) for carting me around, putting up with my mood swings, and well, for everything.

In an effort to keep me moving and to help keep my spirits up, my Mom took me shopping for bulbs the day after chemo. The next day we planted over 100 bulbs in my garden. It was tiring, but it felt good to have the sun shining on my face, and to feel the dirt in my hands. I think Marcia and Bob Russell should write a book on parenting. I love you guys.