Endings that really become beginnings!

There are some things in life you wish would never end. A great party, a fabulous meal with friends, traveling to a beautiful place, the best first date of your life. Strangely, cancer is never on that list.

I’ve known for some time that there would be an end to my maintenance program and had calculated this to be sometime in December. So armed with a list of questions and wanting to know the details of how this wraps up, I headed into the Cancer Center recently and planned to go through them with my doctor and be prepared.

What I never expected is that she would come in apologizing that she’d miscounted the number of cycles I had completed and of all things, this was my very last one! I had thought of the cycles in terms of months, but each cycle was 28 days making the October 12th visit the last time I would receive the additional chemo and steroid treatments. The following 4 weeks of daily oral chemo would be the conclusion of the entire process. Wow, wow, wow!

The last of my infusions—-the end of 24 cycles!

Let’s just say I’ve been blown away and excited and unsure how to process this news. I’m still processing it which is why I haven’t told everyone about the end date. I’m certain I’ll suddenly wake up tomorrow and realize this is just a projection of how I think I’ll feel once it’s over.

But the reality is that it really is coming to an end. After almost 2 1/2 years, I’ll be finished with treatments, tests and medicines by Novemer 8th, and can start to allow my body and mind to breathe and function again. Of all the experiences I’ve had in my life, this was the biggest and worst and best of them all. There were days and days of sitting in my own council checking in with my body and wondering what to do with my mind. Having conversations with myself that would never have taken place at any other time, and finding some answers and new perspectives.

I’m still wildly grateful for what I was able to do and how I managed to get through. Friends tell me I was brave and strong and they think of my challenge as having been such a struggle. While it certainly was a struggle, those who were more brave and strong in my mind are the people who cared for me and kept me going and in turn had to find the reserves to keep themselves going too.

One of my biggest champions was my husband Gene who managed the house, his job, shuttling me back and forth repeatedly, and enduring the myriad list of side effects that came home with me after each session in the hospital. He was a singularly focused partner in the process and never stopped or complained or made me feel that I was a burden. These moments can’t have been easy when you aren’t sure how the months will roll out and how your wife is going to come out of this process or what the future will look like. But he did it without reservation and with great love and compassion. And he told me I was beautiful even when I was quite bald and very pale and miserable. I believed him which helped me to stay strong and find my self worth as the treatments robbed me of my confidence and feeling of purpose. He lifted me up as he always has, and for this he has my heart for all time.

I’m also grateful for the prayers and messages, stories and ways that people reached out. My mother in particular was a force of strength sending me white light and the power of her love and that of our ancestors. It was a giant healing balm to know she was pushing every ounce of her intention and well-being my way. I envisioned it enveloping me and keeping me safe at night and filling me up with health and love. If I reflect on how hard this had to be, watching your daughter go through an experience of such gravity, it breaks my heart to think of how it must have broken hers. But we chose to be fierce in our resolve that I would be well again, and so here we are today with a much brighter future in front of us!

In the coming months I’ll have a final PET scan to close the books and be sure nothing new has crept in when we weren’t looking (when was that exactly?) and the usual monthly check-ups for the next year at least. It’s going to seem strange not to plan my life around the weekly visits and monthly cycles —- but I’ll get used to it.

I’ll miss the people connections I made more than the rest of this experience—and I’ll continue to lend support to anyone else that needs it. Paying this moment forward is the least I can do.

Wishing peace and good health for all of us~~

Maybe the storm didn’t come to disrupt your life, but instead to clear your path. —unknown