It’s been three weeks since my last chemo date. It’s been two weeks since that rainy Friday when we woke up as usual at 6 AM and had to rush to our usual Friday chemo dates, a program that was the same for the last three months and bit.
It’s been two Fridays without that tingelling feeling in my stomach when the steroids went to my blood stream. I would say that it was two weeks without needles in my arm, but that would not be true since last Saturday I started my new 12 rounds of herceptine, a miraculous treatment, that I will continue every three weeks for the rest of the year.
We planned to celebrate that special occasion of the end of the chemo rounds by opening a bottle of champagne right there in the infusion room. Yes, that was my grand plan to open that bottle and celebrate. But we forgot to buy the bottle. Man, what a shame, what a picture that would make. So I had to be content just with the idea of that champagne in my mind.
Twelve rounds of chemo, twelve weeks, no, I won’t say I will miss it because I won’t. I still remember that day when my husband came home: “I have good news and not so good news. Which one do you want to hear first?” He asked at the door. “The bad one of course” I replied with my twisted stomach. “In the short term it’s sucks because the doctors think you need chemo because of the kind of cancer you. But in the long term it should be even better prognosis.” My husband really did try to sell that one.
I would be lying if I would claim chemo was nothing, that it went so fast I didn’t even notice. NO, it didn’t go fast, the last three months were probably the slowest three months in my life, in our lives. At the beginning I was thinking about it like the first trimester of my pregnancy, but man, that was such a naive idea. There was nothing, and I mean nothing, that connected those two periods of my life.
Three months of chemo, three months of sleeping in a different room than my son and husband, three months of being super careful about germs – and man that is not that easy with a three year old in your house. Three months of taking sleeping pills because of the chemo induced insomnia, three months of feeling like I will never get enough sleep.
I don’t even know how to describe those three months that influenced all our lives so much. All of our lives, even that little guy of ours that didn’t have his mummy on call, instead whenever the call came from the bed: “Mommy, mommy?” There was his amazing daddy who brought a bottle of juice and put him on his potty.
Those three months are behind us and there is still a read ahead. But we will make it, I am not alone for this journey, I am lucky and counting my lucky stars to have my great family and a great support circle. That circle that is so needed in difficult times. Thank you people around me!