My last day of chemo was June 9th, 2021. It was a day I looked forward to for a long time. I thought for sure that it would be the beginning of everything being all right again. I thought I would feel different. I thought the sun would immediately shine brighter and the birds would sing louder and all would be right with the world. I even thought that somehow the last chemo session would be easier, just by knowing that it was the last one for awhile.
To tell you the truth, I could not have been more wrong. For one, the last chemo was no less intense and grueling than all the others. In fact, it was worse than the others because the cumulative side effects somehow intensified and lasted longer. I didn’t feel better immediately either. Surprise surprise. I was still tired all the time. I still had fatigue. I was still swollen. My gi tract still didn’t work and I bloated like a nine month pregnant woman every time I ate to the point that I could hardly breathe. I couldn’t push a grocery cart by myself without getting so winded that I had to stop and rest. I had ptsd every time I had the slightest twinge, wondering if this time the symptoms meant something like they did last time. The sympathetic head tilt looks didn’t instantly stop after chemo was done because I was still bald, which was a visual hallmark of continued illness. I had multiple organs try to fail, some still are trying, from chemo side effects, which brought on many more complications. On top of all that, I was struggling, and still am, to rescue my business from everything that had happened during the pandemic and when I was actively sick. It was all crushingly disappointing.
I think the biggest problem is that I wasn’t mentally prepared for any of this. I just wasn’t expecting it. My logical self should have assumed that it was impossible for everything to right itself immediately. However, my chemo patient self was ready for any cheerful fantasy to be true instead. I had a lot of help with this misconception. At my last chemo appointment and doctor’s visit, everyone acted like a huge celebratory gong was to be rung and that it would be all smooth sailing from there. Congratulations flowed all around, uplifting my mood. I can remember stumbling to my car and suddenly breaking down into tears of joy as We Are The Champions came on the radio. I understand the focus of that final visit was to rejoice, but I think it would have been helpful to have a small dose of realism injected in at the same time. I am not talking about not celebrating. I am just talking about balancing the good end of treatment news with some tips about potential complications, what to expect, and how to realistically move forward. I think it would have saved me a lot of frustration and disappointment. I understand so much better now from experience and I have definitely had success in making my way post chemo and I am very grateful for how I am doing now, but I feel like the journey could have been a little less scary with some prior warning.