When my mom began her first round of chemo, back in November, I thought it would never end.
But all good things (and bad things) must come to an end. And chemo is reaching the final round.
Tomorrow marks my mom’s second to the last day of IV treatments. The second to the last day of my mom sitting in a chair for hours while drugs pulse through her veins delivering a punch below the belt to her shrinking tumor.
You can bet I’ll share about the last day. Two weeks from tomorrow, we will celebrate the end of chemo.
But tonight, I wanted up get a jump start on the celly. I’m not a pre-celebration type of person. I have to see final results (post recall, reviewed play, and ratings) before I’ll high five and clap my hands with joy. But with chemo, I will break all my own rules and revel in the fact that cancer is losing. Because my mom is fighting.
She said she’d beat this – this thing called cancer – and she’s making good on that promise. Because for the second to the last time tomorrow, my mom will walk out the door and face her fears head on.
Like the routine-lover that I am, I just set out my outfit choice for tomorrow. I don’t do this because I actually care what I wear every single day; rather, I hate making decisions early in the morning. And like I’ve done since my mom’s chemo began, I selected my Thursday chemo uniform: my Hockey Fights Cancer Blackhawks t-shirt (yes, I am well aware of the Hawks’ losing streak…). It’s been my chemo tradition and I cannot mess with tradition.
In this cancer and chemo world I live in, traditions are necessary in order to feel like I’m doing my part to fight.
Although, even I can admit that this -this thing called cancer – and everything effecting it is one tradition I will gladly give up.
Two more days of chemo. We’re on the home stretch.
Because this horror story-is on its way out completely.