I know I say this every time, but this round was the easiest ever. It’s really true, though! Treatment this week was a breeze. Let me tell you a little about it.
Instead of being the diva I usually am, I opted for infusion in a chair instead of a bed and was rewarded by having my favorite (and the best) Norris nurse take care of me for the day. My buddy Annette was at Norris, too, so I actually spent most of my time in the day hospital hanging out with her, her husband, and Dr. Lenz, who would occasionally pop in for a little chat with his gals. My friend from high school and her dad (who is also a patient of Dr. Lenz) was also in the house, so I chilled out a bit with them, too. You know you’ve been a cancer warrior for a while when chemo days are also social events.
It has been a while. 31 rounds of chemo and almost two years since the day I was diagnosed. I wasn’t really supposed to live two years, so best believe I’m cooking up something epic for my cancer anniversary: September 19th. I don’t know if the celebration will take its form in a conventional party, a mini-vacation, me doing something death-defying (besides surviving this disease, I mean), or me just running up and down the halls of O’Melveny cheering loudly for myself, but it’s going to be memorable.
Anyway, back to chemo.
The rest of the week went well. I focused on hydrating myself before, during, and after infusion time, and I think that added effort is why I didn’t get a headache this time around. I was fully prepared for it, but Tuesday and Wednesday rolled by and it never showed up. I took a solid nap on Wednesday afternoon, and by the time I woke up, I was back. Suited up and headed to work on Thursday, hit the gym on Thursday night, and headed to Vegas after that.
And here I am, in my hotel room in Vegas. I’m here celebrating one of my oldest friends, who just turned the big 3-0. I’m also celebrating the end of another great round of chemo. I’m celebrating life in general.
And I’m also celebrating the recent news of my CEA tumor marker. From an 8.2 to a 7.3. A statistically significant drop, and another smack in my larger smack down of cancer.
I’m a happy camper: staying the course with my treatment plan (which is chemo until cancer says “Enough! I can’t take it anymore! I’m leaving, dammit!”), taking great care of myself, and living a normal life. Actually, a better-than-normal life.