Last Wednesday, the last of the chemotherapy–round six–dripped in while I curled up in the chemo-recliner and snored through a Benadryl-induced nap. In a less comfortable chair, Jerry sudoku’d. My chemo nurse, Patty, swapped out the bags-o’-magic, the infusion pump beeped its electronic farewell, and that was that.
To celebrate the day’s importance, I wore a ridiculous Viking hat that friends bought last fall. When the last of the life-giving poison dripped in, Jerry snapped a Pandora charm bracelet on my wrist. Three charms–love, journey, and Viking.
Curtain down on act one. Time to detox.
A nurse friend, Stephanie, said, “It got it all. Believe me, every cancer cell is dead. The chemo killed all the fleas. Now the surgery and radiation will get rid of the nits. Before long, this will be just a time in your life that you remember.”
God bless her.
“Perfume and incense bring joy to the heart, and the pleasantness of a friend springs from their heartfelt advice.” Proverbs 27:9