The Final Round

I find myself once again sitting in an examination room waiting for the doctor to appear. I am still undecided about whether I want to do this last round or not, but I have to admit that I am feeling up to it. I always feel as if I have finally gotten to a point of feeling better when its time for the next round, and this day is no different.

It has been a long and arduous 15 weeks - nearly 4 months. Three more weeks to go. I know mostly what to expect. It will not be a picnic. But I know I can do it. And I am picturing all those nasty cancer cells dying and flushing from my system. That is, after all, the goal.

The doctor and nurse enter. She tells me my numbers are good. She thinks I can tolerate the final round if I am up to it. She leaves the decision up to me because I know how I feel, and there is a week of "wiggle room" if I want to take it.

I hear myself say, "Let's do it!" I know it is the right decision, even if I would rather not go through the junk again. Suddenly the room jumps into action. I am handed a print out of upcoming appointments - a bone marrow biopsy, a CT scan, the appointments for the Bexxar in October, complete with scans. Yikes!

It's all moving so fast. I am not quite ready to be jumping into phase 2! The doctor sees my panic, and assures me that I will still see the allergist in September, not to worry. I will have time to sit with the expert on Bexxar (who just happens to be the nurse) and talk about what to expect from that.

But for now, just head back to the Infusion Center and let's get this final chemo under way. Good girl! I make a pit stop at the lunch bar and grab a sandwich and gingerale. I know it will be several hours before I am done, and its noon. I slowly make my way down the long hall, past the blood work lab and several offices and elevators to the familiar desk with the same receptionists. I check in.

I have plenty of time to eat lunch while they wait for my drugs to arrive. I resist the urge to turn the TV on to drown out what is coming. I am stuck in a back room with no access to the sunny windows I usually sit by. Blah. The nurse hooks me up and zips through the process, getting me out in record time. I am home by 2:30!

Wobbly and with a headache, but done. A milestone. The final round. Now I just have to get through the next two or three weeks. Oh, and go back in tomorrow for my Neulasta shot so my counts don't plunge. That would be good. Think I'll just sit this afternoon out. Maybe try to rest. I'll celebrate later, when the dust settles.