Monday, May 10, 2010


I have finished chemo, I sat with a camera so I could capture the last drop as it fell. It didn't fall, it turned into a bubble, flapping around like spittle from a dog's mouth. It finally dropped, the machine beeped and no confetti spewed out...bummer. It was a little anti-climatic as I will be back in a few days for an infusion of the Herceptin, which I will do every three weeks. So it is not the end of the poking and dripping, but it is the end of the toxic, napping, stinky sweaty, nauseated days.

At least for now. I don't have any confidence that this will be the last of chemo that I will see in my life.

I made an appointment for therapy, with an oncology counselor. I am curious to learn her interpretation of what is an appropriate thought process for someone in my situation. Everyone tells me I am handling this well, except for one nurse. I pointed out to her that I was not terribly perky before cancer, this might just be my personality.

I did check out a meeting for breast cancer people, but found it entirely too pink for my liking. I also have gone to a cancer support place, all kinds of cancer, no pink to be found. I hope that they can be my cancer "peeps". They have family support, stuff for kids and all types of cancer are represented.

A new hair development has occurred. I have some hair, very short hair, and I go "topless" 99% of the time. Apparently, now it is not assumed that I have cancer, people now make assumptions about my sexual orientation. A construction worker actually yelled something to me as I drove down the road. A co-worker confirmed my suspicions that the loud mouth asshole was attacking what he assumed my sexual preference to be.

What people yell out on the street is not really my issue, it is that people think it is OK to yell anything out at all. I don't know that I have ever felt strongly enough about anything to just scream it at strangers as they pass by.

But, I guess it is impressive that at 41 years of age, this is the first time that a stranger has insulted me directly, meaning that directed it only to me. I guess I have spent my life being pretty invisible.

I should take that up in therapy.

1 comment:

  1. I been stalking your blog for a while now, but on this post I must say congratulations on your last chemo. The nurse where I used to get my chemo told me they used to ring a bell and give a balloon. But they stopped since it made some of the patients sad.Such a shame I'm always glad when someone finishes any cancer treatment.