January 2, 2015
Run/ Walk/ Bike/ Elliptical (Today: 3.10 miles; Running Total: 113.0 miles)
Day 175 of *Another* 100 Days of Good Karma.
I loathe giving up the ‘feeling good’. Going back into sloth mode for a week.
I keep telling myself, “Last one. You can do it. It’s the last one.”
Oh but holy shit, I don’t want to.
I woke up early to enjoy as much time as I could of ‘feeling good’.
I broke the rules. I had TWO cups of coffee this morning.
(Shh. Don’t tell.)
I did 3.01 miles on the elliptical machine. Then I sat down to update my mileage.
109.9 + 3.01 = 112.92.
I knew that missing 0.08 miles would just haunt me all day, so I jogged in place for another 0.08 miles to get to 113.
I know. I’m ridiculous.
I showered and put on comfy yoga pants and my favorite running t-shirt. I didn’t expect to go running again, but I knew I’d probably crash when I got home. So I opted for the closest thing to pajamas.
Justin’s aunt Kennea (pronounced ‘Rene’ with a ‘K’) was my last chemo date. She took notes during my appointment with my surgeon and my oncologist.
The surgeon was the big meeting today. I now have a surgery date: January 28th.
I also have a ton of appointments coming up to get read for that surgery date. Mammograms and labs to see how much the chemo shrank the tumors, meetings with the plastic surgeon to discuss his plan, an appointment with the body image counselor in case I’m losing my mind.
After meeting with the oncologist and the surgeon I was shipped back and hooked up for my (eek!) last chemo treatment. I told my nurse that they were all wonderful people and I appreciated everything they did but I sincerely hoped I’d never have to see them again.
She laughed and said she hoped they never had to see me again either.
That’s maybe the only time in my life where it was acceptable to have this conversation.
I went home sluggish and slow, the morning’s energy gone in a wash of biohazardous compounds. I crawled into bed fully clothed (yay for yoga pants) and fell asleep at 5 o’clock.
I didn’t even hear Justin come home or Kennea leave.
I keep calling this chemo treatment my ‘last one’ even though I feel like I’m tempting fate by doing so. Like I’m jinxing myself and the cancer will come back just to spite me.
Today’s silver lining: It was the last one.
I made it!
What’s your silver lining today? I love comments!
Don’t want to leave a comment, but have something you want to share? Send me an email at gettingthewordswrong(at)gmail(dot)com.