Peachy Comeback

 Today, I went for my 6th Kadcyla infusion. 8 to go. After getting my port flushed and hooked up, the nurse took me to a room where I would see my oncologist before going in for the infusion.  (By they way, I hope there is some wonderful soul out there finding a way to flavor whatever they use to flush a port. I think it’s a saline rinse? I mean, gag! Absolutely terrible. My secret? Hold my breath and look away. The nurse invariably asks, “Sweetie, are you okay?” I shake my head silently, usually give a thumbs up, because after all, I’m holding my breath and not talking. Then, once I’m convinced the taste is gone or turning blue, which ever comes first, I breathe again. That’s my working method until they come up with a chardonnay flavored rinse!) My oncologist came in and sat down on a nearby swivel stool. We started chatting about how I’m tolerating the treatment. Thankfully, it’s going oaky so far. He said something to the effect of, “so, you think we can do this?” “Absolut...

Tomorrow I report for breast cancer chemo treatment #6. Lord willing, it will be the last.  As I lay here in bed trying to fall sleep, clearly not a task I’m succeeding in at that moment, I’m overwhelmed with gratitude. I remember the first visit with my oncologist where he laid out my treatment plan. To start, “you’ll be having 6 rounds of chemo every 3 weeks.” I’m not great at math, but it didn’t take me long to get to 18. It sounded like an E-T-E-R-N-I-T-Y. I was terrified.  Now, somehow, here I am. On the other side of 18 weeks. Did I really make it to the other side?  Nothing about the past 18 weeks has been fun or easy. It also hasn’t been as bad as my imagination told me it could be. Grace, good medicine, a fabulous oncologist, and support team I feel undeserving of have escorted me on this journey. They get the credit for getting me to the other side.  Grace has bolstered me when darkness has clouded my mind.  Good medicine, oh man, it’s kept from making...