An End to Chemotherapy

The blog address came from an earlier title I tried for this blog. Didn’t work. The new title is a better reflection of me – and if you’re here, I hope it’s a reflection of you…http://breastcancerreaper.blogspot.com/search/label/Introductions

My wife went in for her last chemotherapy on Tuesday.

You might think it would be cause for massive celebrations, phone calls to everyone and cheering in the streets.

You might be wrong.

This “last time” WAS a milestone! Don’t get me wrong – we DO celebrate. We are thankful in our hearts. We brought donut holes. They gave my wife a Graduation From Chemotherapy Diploma – as I said to friend of mine, “It was wonderful – though I wouldn’t wish the circumstances on ANYONE. But it was wonderful!” The staff at the infusion center are wonderful. The facility is stunning. The professionalism is epitomy.

But it wasn’t what I thought it would be. I’d tell you what really happened, but then I’d give away my little secret, so I’ll save that for some later day. The fact is that it’s over.

And then there are those two words: for now.

After this, there are tests, doctor visits and the irritation of the port doesn’t get removed until they decide on the treatment she needs and when she decides she wants it out. The hair doesn’t start growing back for another four months or so. She’ll be on estrogen-suppresing pills for the next five years. She’ll stop taking some of the drugs, but no one has given her the go ahead to DUMP whatever is left over.

She just said to me, “I hurt so badly.”

Why? The neulasta, a drug that dramatically increases the production of white blood cells so that her immune system isn’t compromised and she pick up some opportunistic infection – has a protein component that is the same as the one is found in rheumatoid arthritis…and so she has symptoms for a few days that mimic rheumatoid arthritis.

While she won’t have to deal with THAT for the foreseeable future, there are, of course other things she’ll have to deal with. The thing is that we don’t know WHAT those things are.

Where was the dancing in the streets? Where were the cheers? Where was the champagne? There was none because this is all just “the next step”. When will she be declared cancer free? What about the friend of hers who went through virtually the same treatment – and then discovered she had bone cancer? What is in the “unforeseeable future”?

We don’t know.

For now, we consider a REAL celebration in December, around her birthday when she has “fuzz” on her head and we are farther from the March Hell.

Until then, we move forward and continue to live in the New Normal.

Image: http://blog.nj.com/giants_scene/2008/02/paradeparade.JPG