Tuesday Morning I have my last reconstructive surgery scheduled. This effectively ends my breast cancer treatments. This doesn't mean I'm finished, but will finally move from the chemo-radiation-multiple surgeries phase of my life into just checkups.
I don't know if they "got it all," and I don't consider myself "cured" or "cancer-free" -- it's too early for that. Talk to me in five years and we'll see.
I've been thinking of a lot of people lately, like everyone who have loved and supported me and my husband. More than anything, I've been thinking how no matter how bad things have gotten throughout this journey, there is always someone sicker than you. I became acquainted with a lot of women who were sicker than me in the last nineteen months, especially one woman who I met in the Chemo Room. We'll call her "Vivian." She was fabulous, old enough to be my mother, sweet, and did I say fabulous? "Vivian" was on her 5th treatment when I met her the day of my first treatment in April of last year. She called everybody "honey." We talked about food cravings, oncologists, ice cream, wigs, how her son was about to graduate from Medical School and she was so proud of him. I liked her immediately.
I ran into "Vivian" in the Chemo Room mid-June, and was shocked to see her. "Oh honey, I just had my first radiation treatment today-it was a breeze!" She went on to say how she was starting her second round of chemo that day. We weren't on such intimate terms that we knew our specific cases, but half-way through my chemotherapy, I knew enough that couldn't be a good sign. Each infusion day you worry until they tell you your numbers are still good, and on your last infusion, when you get the all-clear, you know that chemo worked and it's time for the next phase. It was my understanding that more chemo = very bad. Then I looked at "Vivian" and her flawless blonde wig, and tasteful, perfect makeup. Then I looked at myself--it was one of those stinking hot Washington Summer days, and I had left my wig at home. I'd coordinated my purple top with a purple & green leopard scarf, and was sporting a little lipstick. Not bad, but I thought if "Vivian" can turn it out like this in the face of all her challenges, I can certainly make more of an effort when I head out for these treatments.
I never saw "Vivian" after that day, but I have always made a little bit of an effort--even if I've felt crappy through my own journey. A little face shimmer, a little Chanel Lip gloss, a little sexy perfume--it definitely "informed my character" and was all in homage to "Vivian."
Tomorrow, I'll be comforted knowing I have a lot of wonderful people who love me and my husband. But I'll be thinking of "Vivian" and all the women still struggling through their own journeys.
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