One last infusion - The Funny Thing About Cancer
 
Tomorrow is my last Herceptin. 

It is my sincerest hope that tomorrow will be the last time I:

- ever visit an infusion room.  For any reason.
- have my port accessed
- see a nurse in a special gown that is supposed to protect her from the poison she is going to pump into me
- have to wait (and wait... and wait) for the lab to release my meds.  Seriously.  Takes forever sometimes.
- spend my Friday afternoon in an infusion room (instead of at a happy hour).

Bottom line is that I hope tomorrow is the end of my cancer journey.  I will still need to go back to get my port removed.  And I'm thinking about maybe getting one more surgery to really complete my reconstruction... but that'll be a few months away yet.

But even with those future procedures, tomorrow FEELS like the end of all of this craziness.  It feels like the chains are coming off and I'll finally be free!  Free from the appointments and the waiting rooms.  Free from the physical annoyances that are "side effects".  Free from the constant scheduling that all the appointments require.  Free from the emails from my insurance telling me "my claim has been processed" (for every infusion).  Free from ALL of that.

Did you know it's been EIGHTEEN months since I've gone more than 3 weeks without a doctors appointment of some kind?  For the last year and a half, I have seen a medical professional at least once every 3 weeks.  Prior to cancer, I saw a doctor exactly once a year (except for when I was pregnant).  I am so unbelievably excited for that to be over.  After I get my port out, I won't have to go see my oncologist for FOUR MONTHS. 

Now, I know I will never be truly free from cancer... any survivor will tell you that cancer will forever be a part of your life, even when you're "cured".  But to be free from the responsibility of the constant appointments and treatments will be divine.  I can't possibly tell you how exciting that is for me.

So here's to celebrating the end of treatment and ALL the freedom that comes with it :)
5/3/2012 11:03:09 am

Sweet! May your future be free of all forms of poison (except alcohol, obviously!).

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5/3/2012 11:37:42 pm

YAY!!!!

Congratulations. My cancer journey only lasted 10 months (only!)... Okay well not counting reconstruction which is still at least a year off. But I know what you mean about that freedom. Ironically I got pregnant two months after finishing radiation, so I never got to stop seeing doctors... At least it is for a good reason.

Anyhow I really wanted to comment to say, life does go on. Because I'm pregnant, I was shoved head first into post-cancer life and am finding that I go days, maybe longer, without thinking about cancer. I even write about cancer less and less on my blog as baby takes over. So as your appointments fade in the distance, so too will that ever present big C.

So celebrate appropriately. Maybe hit up that happy hour after you're done! =) A little cinco de mayo poison on top of the cancer poison in the form of a margarita!

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Mary
5/7/2012 03:16:43 pm

Cynthia - congratulations - you are officially a survivor. This is a new leg. The leg where you see how long you can go without using the cancer word, how long you can go between dr visits. You will feel better yet when you are off the Herceptin. Get your port OUT and finish your reconstruction (yes I know you are sick of dr offices but those last steps are worth it).

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Sarah
5/9/2012 10:32:53 am

AMEN!! Love you sister!! Sorry I am not there to celebrate with you. We love you, Sarah, Michael, Anna Grace, and Ella Marie!!!!

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