Today was my last chemo. That's what the doctor said, so I'm going with it.
Her first words to me today were, "I'm really on the fence about giving you this last cycle." (worried face, scrunchy face, closed face)
"Why?", I asked in my most pleasant voice. (smiling face, convincing face, open face)
I knew why - fainting - concussion, but I wanted something to argue with, so I let her go first. I wasn't prepared for what she said - or her passion. She never fails to surprise me.
"I love your brain. I LOVE your brain and I cannot damage it. If you fall again on top of this last fall...."
"I won't fall," I told her. She laughed,
I'll spare you the details, but when Richard (did I mention that Richard took me for my last chemo? So special) explained the visit to Michael he said...
"You know how when kids want a puppy they say... I'll feed it - I'll give it water - I'll walk the puppy - I'll clean up it's mess - I'll pick up its toys - I will - I will - I will! Well... that was mom working on that doctor today."
My best argument was that with the information that I got on Monday (Oh! I was in the ER at Penn on Monday with a crazy high heart rate and an active SVT [superventricular tachycardia] episode - tested - monitored - hooked up to anything they could find to hook up to me - finally released about 8 hours later) AND with the information that she was about to give me (because I was counting on a discussion), I had a much better chance of controlling the fainting than I did of curing cancer.
The original node that I found was 11cm x 9 cm. As of the last PET scan, that node was 2cm x 2cm and cancer free, BUT, if there are any nodes left - no matter how small, I'll need radiation to get rid of them - cancer free or not. Without radiation, they will replicate themselves and well... no thanks. I told her that if this last round of chemo had anything at all to do with whether or not that node would be gone, then there was really no question.
Some more chatter, rules, pointed looks from the doctor at Richard, making him promise to follow up and make sure I'm doing what I'm supposed to be doing (and not doing what I'm supposed to not be doing).
This concussion scared me. Concussions are no joke. My brain is damaged. I can feel it every day. Hopefully, it will heal. I do not want to do this again!
I was selling hard... and it finally paid off. Sunita agreed to the last cycle of chemo.
About five and a half hours later, I had finished my last chemo and Richard encouraged me to ring the bell on the way out. It's tradition when you finish your last chemo, that you ring a big brass bell on the way out - maybe as an encouragement to those receiving chemo that day, maybe as a celebration. I didn't want to do it. I'm not much for hoopla, but Richard really wanted me to - so I did.
After I rang the bell, I have to say I agree with Richard. It was a good thing to do. He said it was like putting a period at the end of a sentence and he was exactly right.
Bell rung - period placed - now to get through the next two weeks without fainting. Moving on.
Her first words to me today were, "I'm really on the fence about giving you this last cycle." (worried face, scrunchy face, closed face)
"Why?", I asked in my most pleasant voice. (smiling face, convincing face, open face)
I knew why - fainting - concussion, but I wanted something to argue with, so I let her go first. I wasn't prepared for what she said - or her passion. She never fails to surprise me.
"I love your brain. I LOVE your brain and I cannot damage it. If you fall again on top of this last fall...."
"I won't fall," I told her. She laughed,
I'll spare you the details, but when Richard (did I mention that Richard took me for my last chemo? So special) explained the visit to Michael he said...
"You know how when kids want a puppy they say... I'll feed it - I'll give it water - I'll walk the puppy - I'll clean up it's mess - I'll pick up its toys - I will - I will - I will! Well... that was mom working on that doctor today."
My best argument was that with the information that I got on Monday (Oh! I was in the ER at Penn on Monday with a crazy high heart rate and an active SVT [superventricular tachycardia] episode - tested - monitored - hooked up to anything they could find to hook up to me - finally released about 8 hours later) AND with the information that she was about to give me (because I was counting on a discussion), I had a much better chance of controlling the fainting than I did of curing cancer.
The original node that I found was 11cm x 9 cm. As of the last PET scan, that node was 2cm x 2cm and cancer free, BUT, if there are any nodes left - no matter how small, I'll need radiation to get rid of them - cancer free or not. Without radiation, they will replicate themselves and well... no thanks. I told her that if this last round of chemo had anything at all to do with whether or not that node would be gone, then there was really no question.
Some more chatter, rules, pointed looks from the doctor at Richard, making him promise to follow up and make sure I'm doing what I'm supposed to be doing (and not doing what I'm supposed to not be doing).
This concussion scared me. Concussions are no joke. My brain is damaged. I can feel it every day. Hopefully, it will heal. I do not want to do this again!
I was selling hard... and it finally paid off. Sunita agreed to the last cycle of chemo.
About five and a half hours later, I had finished my last chemo and Richard encouraged me to ring the bell on the way out. It's tradition when you finish your last chemo, that you ring a big brass bell on the way out - maybe as an encouragement to those receiving chemo that day, maybe as a celebration. I didn't want to do it. I'm not much for hoopla, but Richard really wanted me to - so I did.
After I rang the bell, I have to say I agree with Richard. It was a good thing to do. He said it was like putting a period at the end of a sentence and he was exactly right.
Bell rung - period placed - now to get through the next two weeks without fainting. Moving on.
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