Relief

Okay, I'm done. What next? Anticipation riddles me as I digest the magnitude of what I have just accomplished.

7+ weeks, 38 treatments, relentless fatigue, and a sunburn later, I'm done. It doesn't seem like much, not yesterday or 7 weeks ago. But today, after finishing my last radiation treatment, I sat in my car and cried for longer than I have since I was diagnosed.

Not because I was sad. At all! It's the weirdest emotion I may have ever experienced. Relief? Might be the best way to explain it. I imagine it was what it must feel like to get rescued after being stranded at sea or finish the longest race of your life. It's the kind of thing you don't realize what you did until after you're done. And when you do, you are overcome with such emotion and pride and awareness that you have to allow yourself 5 minutes to sit in your car and cry while you absorb the reality of what has just happened.

My dear and loving husband met me at the oncology office to commemorate my last radiation treatment and learn what my medical oncologist has in store for my follow up treatment. I'm blessed to have my partner literally hold my hand through this entire journey like I'm a four year old crossing a busy and dangerous street for the first time.

During this process I have fed off of the encouragement from my cheerleaders on the sidelines constantly reminding me that I am strong enough to make it through this. I think many of you were scared for me, but I never saw it. I don't even know the words to thank you for being so brave and inspiring.

I fill my script of tamoxifen tomorrow. All my worries about side effects of this drug or its interference with our big baby-making plans seem distant compared to its benefits. I'm going to give this drug an honest chance because in the end, to quote my surgeon, "this drug is going to save me".

Today, life is good.

Home stretch

Ok, all you runners out there can relate to this. You know those days when you set out to do a long, hard run but you're just not "feeling it"? Maybe you're especially tired after a long work week plus you stayed out too late last night not to mention it's 101 degrees outside and 90% humidity. Okay, so you are about 75% done with your run and you come across the shortcut back home. If you're an overachiever like me, you're not going to take the shortcut. But... you know that split second where you actually really consider taking the shortcut, where home and a cold shower and tall glass of water could come a mile or so sooner, and even though you really aren't going to quit early, you relish in the thought of it?

That's just about how I'm feeling right now.

Of course, in this case, quitting really, truly is not an option for me. But, I have to admit to having this tiny little fantasy where my oncologist calls me up tomorrow morning and says, "you know, if you really wanted to quit and not finish these last 2 treatments you totally have that option". I know, I know, it's only 2 more treatments. After 34 of them, what's the big deal? Well, if you have been following my blog at all, you have probably learned that patience is not my virtue. I'm seriously ready to get on with things already.

I think half of the problem with two more treatments is that one of them happens to fall on Monday. I'd love to start a new fresh week and go a full 5 days without a 5pm radiation date. But, to borrow a phrase from one of my favorite former managers, "it is what it is". So true!!

So, I guess I better suck it up and get ready for the last mile. It will be Tuesday before I know it and I can't wait for the tall cold margarita waiting for me at the end of my radiation run.