And then, the drugs and memory loss kick in. What I do recall is that while my husband was off fetching food for us, they brought around lunch and I had a turkey and cheese sandwich and a bag of chips. Things get fuzzy after that. He went to the cafeteria, he told me later, and called several times but I didn't answer. So he came back to the chemo room, said he'd call again from the cafeteria to tell me what my choices were. I have a vague memory of asking for a muffin. He called several times again and when I finally answered, I apparently wouldn't say anything. He chose for us, and came back with a muffin, a grilled cheese sandwich and fries. He tells me I offered him a bite of the muffin and then when he turned back, I'd devoured the remainder of it and was taking huge bites of the sandwich. And I ate most of the fries. Zero memory of any of that. I told him I remembered the first sandwich and chips and he said, "No kidding, I had to brush a bunch of potato chip crumbs off you." Yeah, don't remember that either. Maybe it was my body's way of calorie-loading before my taste buds went to hell.
But before that, I felt okay. The neulasta on-body injector hurt more this time and I'm not sure why. See that little cannula? That is the thing that was sticking into me for 27 hours before it started infusing. I can't tell you what a relief it was to peel it off on Saturday.
"Ring this bell, three times well, and celebrate this day.
This course is run, my treatment done, now I am on my way."
Well, it's not actually done. I have surgeries ahead and years of endocrine therapy, and I know there are no guarantees. But I am very thankful to be done with the chemo part. And that plaque is not the boss of me - I rang it four times, once for each round I completed. And yes, I DID clap for myself.