It has been 3 weeks since my last chemo admission, and today I am scheduled to start cycle 5A. I am waiting for the call from the hospital to see if they have a bed for me, and it will be another weekend getting pumped full of toxic chemicals.
Ding, dong the witch is dead…
My recovery from almost 8 months of chemo is progressing, albeit slowly. My marrow is so devastated from 8 rounds of HYPER-CVAD that I feel hollow, and as a result my hemoglobin and platelets are low and will remain so for another few weeks. Because my hemoglobin is low, and because I’ve been through hell, I tire pretty easily and require at least a nap a day.
I have gotten back to work, but my time in the office usually lasts for just a few hours. On Monday I spent half a day at work and then in the evening sat on a panel about science and ethics at the Wilma theater downtown. It was the first time I really had to use my brain in a very long time (other than to decide whether I’d have vegetable or tomato soup for lunch), and with my hemoglobin low I was nervous that I’d just stare blankly into the theater lights in response to a question, or else embarrass myself by uttering something completely stupid or nonsensical. My response to the first question was a bit rambling, but I managed to summon some extra hemoglobin for the evening, and things didn’t go so badly after all.
So no more chemo folks and that, I have to admit, feels a bit strange. I’ve been actively fighting lymphoma for all this time, and now, even though I am lymphoma free, and even though the future is bright and filled with hope, there is something unsettling about the transition to normalcy. Normalcy is not what it once was for us. I am a cancer survivor, and with that comes so much. So much, in fact, that I am going to save those thoughts for tomorrow.