posted Wednesday, 16 November 2005
16 needle sticks... 8 doses of poison... 4 months... fortunately, only 1 episode of "praying to the porcelain gods"... and I am done!
My last chemo was today. Jackson had asked to take me (gosh - what a blessing to have someone *ask me* if he could take me to chemo... so I didn't have to go out and ask anybody...) - I think he just wanted to watch a few more episodes of Friends (on my portable dvd player that the Charest's gave me)!
During my meeting with Dr Cairoli, I asked him what we do from here. Well, he considers me "cured", which sounds pretty good to me. I will meet with him every 3 months, for the next 3 years. He will examine me and they will do a blood test (to look at liver & bone function). I will be on tamoxifen for the next 5 years. Surgery is planned for January (still no date). They don't re-do all the scans anymore (bone scan, pet scan, muga scan, etc). They found that the emotional drain of the scans (because they are so sensitive and come up with a lot of false positives) wasn't worth it, because usually, they were only finding things a few weeks earlier with the scans... usually, you know that something is going on, by the time it starts showing up in a scan... After we discussed all of this, he told me he was proud of me and gave me a hug. I lost it. I didn't cry when they told me I had cancer. I didn't cry when they told me I would need surgery... or chemo... or more surgery (ok- I cried in my car when I got the message, but not in front of the drs)... or that I may never be able to have children (ok- I almost cried then in front of dr cairoli, but managed to save it for home)... but today, I cried in the office... Dr Cairoli told Annette that "Linda is doing really well... but she's all business"... not today. For some reason, all those emotions that I keep buried somewhere deep inside came flooding out... I guess I had been fighting to be tough for so long that the thought of this battle nearing an end was just a bit overwhelming.
It was a good thing this was my last chemo, because Peggy had a hard time hitting a vein in my hand. My veins are pretty fried from all the chemo and it took a minute to get the IV situated and set. At the end of the treatment, all the nurses came over and sang to me. They gave me a "diploma" and all gave me hugs... and of course, I cried again... what a wreck I was.
Here's what my "diploma" read:
The nurses of HOA would like to extend our best wishes to you as you move on today with the completion of your chemotherapy. May the same strength, courage, and determination that pushed you through the challenges and difficult times during the course of your treatment continue to guide you. We celebrate this time with you and want you to know that it is truly our privilege to know you.
To Peggy, Rose, Janet, Sandy, Linda & Peggy - it is truly *my* privilege to know you. Your nursing expertise was apparent from the start -- your compassion and love were too. I will forever be impressed by and thankful for your knowledge, dedication, compassion and friendship.
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