Lines to Finish

I made it to today.  In September, I didn't think I would.  Heck, even Wednesday, I didn't think I would make it to today.  But I did.  Today marks the date of my last cancer treatment.  I was able to enjoy the pleasure of a nurse named Shasta, and Dr. L for one last time today; complete with tubes and paddles.  But I did it.  I survived it.  I did it!

As soon as all medical implements were removed Dr. L informed me that I would be meeting with him on December 10th.  So one finish line crossed, and more to come.  Within the last weeks of November and first two weeks of December I have 4 doctors to meet with.  Dr. B, Dr. B2, Dr. S & Dr. L will all be enjoying me rapier wit for a little longer.  Lucky them.

Now that the moment has passed though, I have to tell you something.  I am weak.  I actually did want to give up.  I did.  In the morning hours of Wednesday into the early afternoon of Thursday; I wanted to be done with all of this.  I hadn't been able to sleep in two days, my body hurt, and the simplest of tasks that you're born knowing how to do was so complicated and terrifying that I would sit in my new prison (the bathroom) and just weep for many agonizing minutes.  When you hurt like that, it's very lonely.  Coach caught me in one of those moments and nearly came apart with the fact that he couldn't take the pain away for me.  He really is a knight in shining armor- I am a lucky girl.

There have been times when using the facilities causes me to scream.  How ridiculous is that? However, I'm aware that my kiddos are near and so I clamp my hands over my mouth and do all that I can to just squeak and not outright scream.  It's hard.  It makes my stomach clench, and my eyes hurt.  It's pretty terrible.

When Coach came home from work on Thursday, G happened to be playing at a friend's house (whose mother is an angel walking this Earth), and I happened to be in the tub silently weeping and wondering what I hadn't done right to have this pain continue as long as it had.  He sat on the edge of the tub, I put my head on his leg and he just listened to me ramble through my tears.  He didn't interrupt, didn't forbid me from saying the things that would cross my mind, didn't make me feel like my feelings were terrible.  He just listened, and then rubbed my back.  Slowly the pieces that I had fallen into began to take shape again; and things didn't look so dark.  A best friend does that for you.

I would like to say that I'm a fighter, but in reality, I'm human.  For two days I teetered in darkness, sleep-deprived and full of pain, and I couldn't see beyond the moment that was eating me alive from the inside out. I look back now on all that I wrote about wanting just to get started, and hating to wait, but to be honest if I knew then what I know now...I would have prolonged this forever.

Today is a much better day.  I'm grateful today that things are over and the healing can truly start to happen.  I've been given advice to take things slowly, but I'm a full speed ahead girl and want to get back to whatever "normal" is.  However,  I realize how greedy that sounds when I know of so many people that are teetering in the abyss that is treatment, and the finish line is so far away.  I wish I was strong like them, because they are so strong and brave.  They fill me with hope.  I look to them on the dark days and realize that they are facing so much and keeping their chins up and showing so much grace.

As I walked out from the Phoenix clinic today, the skies were cloudy, and I was thankful.  The always sunny days here in Arizona become boring.  The cloudy day seemed like a great way to celebrate- change.  Things are changing.  My attitude towards this soreness is changing.  My mantra each moment of doubt becomes- "One day at a time."

I wanted to be honest while I wrote this.  I want people out there who may be facing the same things I have faced to know that it's not easy, however, it is doable.  There will be dark days.  There will be days when you beg to just quit; but if you can keep moving forward your finish line will come.

I'm not celebrating today.  I'm going to wait until my digestive system can handle a trip to the Cheesecake Factory and then I'm going to go and order everything that looks good, take bites of each of it, and then box it all up to take home to enjoy....where the potty will be more cozy.

Thank you for checking on me.  Thank you for rallying to my cause.  Thank you for caring enough about me to forgive me for the weakness, and know that I've picked myself up and am moving forward again.  Cervical cancer is terrible, but it's not the end of the world.  It's curable, it's beatable, and that is exactly what I intend to do with it. More sleep-filled nights and happiness ahead- promise!~Kami