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I endured chemo infusion #3 last week. Dr. D said that my liver enzymes were back to normal and that my white blood cells are keeping up their end of the bargain. Good news! He also said that it seemed I looked good and seemed “perky”. (The “perky” must have been due to the steroids.) The nurses and Dr. D were quick to point out that Yay! Only one chemo left after today! I knew their math was right, but I felt an impending sense of doom as the minutes ticked closer to needle time.

After my doctor visit it was time to head to the Infusion Lounge. The nurse said I could choose any yellow pleather easy chair that was open, and my eye immediately went to the one chair that was partnered with a decorated IV pole. Valentine’s Day bling! Surely this would make my time a little better!

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This infusion was no different than the others except that I felt tired and achy sooner than ever. I think that that there are lingering chemo meds in my system each time I go, so the impact of each infusion is a little greater. I don’t have any science to back that up except for my own tortured body, but it sounds pretty sciency to me, so we’ll go with it.

Of course, I always fret about what to wear to these momentous occasions, but this time I was at a definite loss. I searched through my closet and finally settled on this shirt:

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I was feeling pretty snarky and wanted to give cancer the middle finger, so I felt justified in this shirt choice. When-I-Say-So, okay CANCER? Later, I felt kind of dumb about my choice because I really have no control over cancer at all. It has dictated everything since my diagnosis. I definitely feel trapped by disease.

When we left the appointment, we headed to an early dinner…I had to get one last meal in before my taste buds were obliterated.

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The recovery from this infusion has been most of the same, except that I needed one extra day to recover before I was able to go back to work and the nausea was way worse. I look for the three weeks between infusions to be more of the same, where I get nearly back to normal only to have them fill my body with more poison medicine. The good news is that there is only one chemo appointment left. I am still shocked at how hard this has been, and I’m on a chemo regimen that is considered light! I’m also feeling like there is no way any rogue cancer cells have survived in my body–surely chemo has killed every single thing inside me. I am beginning to question the need for six weeks of radiation in addition to the chemo. I’ll be visiting with the radiation oncologist soon and then I think I will get a second opinion.

I know the best way to look at chemo is to consider that the trauma I suffer through now will extend my life later, but it’s hard to have such grown-up thoughts. If I didn’t know better (luckily I do) I would think those doctors were actually trying to kill me.

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