Day 426 - It's time

I have been contemplating the end of my blog for a while now.

Tomorrow is my last treatment.

And as scared as that makes me feel, considering that all my follow-up appointments will be to make sure that cancer has not come back, it is time to put this behind me.

What is shocking is what that nurse told me, over 400 days ago, is coming true.

I do not think about cancer every day any more, some days it feels like it happened to someone else.

But I guess I will always carry the scars to prove it was real.

When this all started, Doug made me promise him that I would be open about what I was feeling.  I used this blog as a way to communicate to the universe what cancer is like.

Most days I felt that the universe was listening.  But I am not sure if I was as honest as I should have been.

As fun as I tried to make this whole cancer thing seem, it was hard.

Like mind numbingly hard.

I spent days thinking I was not going to see my children grow up.  Thinking my mother would have to live through any parents worst fear, wondering what would happen to all my hopes and dreams.

Then I watched my oldest friend survive a parents worst fear.

And then I saw a friend not get to see her children grow up.

As my heart kept beating.

As my cells kept dividing.

As the earth continued to spin.

I questioned what it all meant, what the point of any of this is.

And then I healed.

I feel more centered now, more calm.

I am ready to leave cancer behind me.  Crumpled in the corner like a discarded pair of old socks.  We are both tired of each other.

So thank you faithful readers, thank you for following this story, for propping me up during the hardest days.

It is time now to put this all behind us.

It is time now to Heal and Deal.

Day 418 - School's out for Summer!

Summer has officially begun for the Eikenkids.

It is about this time every year when I wish I was a teacher.  I wish I had the lazy days of summer in front of me to fill with whatever my heart desired.

Last summer I was bald, at the beginning of chemo, and scared.

On Friday's (chemo days), Doug would tuck me into bed, then take the kids down the street for pizza.

I would usually fall asleep, and not get out of bed until the next day.

But not before feeling really lonely.

Tonight, we walked down for pizza to celebrate the kids last day of school.

As a family.

Day 418 - My Port

A little over a year ago I had my port surgery.

When you are facing 16 rounds of chemo your Dr.'s strongly encourage that you have a port implanted into your body.

For those of you who have been wondering all this time what a port is, let me explain.  It is a small device, about the size of a quarter, that is installed beneath the skin.  A catheter connects the port to a vein, in my case my jugular.

So for the last year, whenever I received treatment, a needle would be inserted into my port, the drugs would flow through the catheter, into my jugular, and then out to my bloodstream.

Today it came out, and I finally got a chance to look at it up close and personal.

As any survivor of cancer will tell you, there are certain milestones that you look forward to.  This was a major milestone I wanted to get to.

It means I am done with treatment (actually only one more to go, but I will take it the old fashioned way).

It means I lived to see it removed.

Day 417 - dusting off

I used to love Volleyball.

The night before practice, as I was falling asleep, I would get so excited that I got to play the next day. 

I think I bounced, set, tossed a volleyball in my room more than anything.

Two of my best friends, the two women who were my rocks over the last year, were met on a volleyball court.

For some reason, as the years went by, I detached myself from the girl who loved to play.  My career started to be the place where I put all that focus and energy.

My volleyball life seemed to have been lived by someone else. 

Another time.

Another place.

Tonight, we took the kids to the gym to shoot baskets, and burn off some energy. 

I walked by a group of people playing a pick up game of volleyball.

They asked me if I wanted to play.

Without hesitation I said yes, which surprised me.

Part of why I stopped playing was because I had performed at such an elite level, I was so competitive, that I was not sure I could enjoy the game standing next to someone who was playing for the first time.

It turns out, none of that matters to me any more.

I simply want to do things that I enjoy, regardless of how well I can do them.

So I played a game of pick-up volleyball, where we didn't keep score, where I had to explain the rules to a few people, where more than one person served underhand.

And I loved it.

Day 415 - JETS

Been rolling like a player for the last few days.  Apparently the only way to get to Miami, NY, and Chicago in two days is in this:

My only complaint is next week when Doug and I go to San Francisco we will be flying commercial.

Day 413 - The things people say

So I am off on another business trip.  The same person said the followings things, within an hour.

Me, "This weather is going to make my hair get curlier."
Her, "There is no way your hair could get any curlier."

Ouch!

Then, at dinner, after the waitress spilled a glass of water all over her, and the mortified waitress apologized and apologized, she said, with the warmest smile:

"If this is the worst thing that happens to me today then I am doing great."

Yep.

Day 411 - And then there was one

This afternoon I sat through my second to last Herceptin treatment.

In three weeks I will be finished with it all.

My passport will be stamped for the last time.

Sure there will be follow up appointments, blood tests, scans, etc.  

Yes I will continue to take hormone suppressing drugs.  

Yes I will have moments when I think, "what if".

But after all we have been through together.

I just want to put it all behind me.