I just want to say thank you to everyone who texted me today to remind me what number Tuesday it was. Every week I forget and it’s nice to know that there are people out there who have a better memory than I do. Also thank you for all of the messages of support for my last day of chemo, but this week is my off week, so I get to rest before the big day next Tuesday.
Which leads me to my topic of the day: anticipation.
Anticipation is a dangerous thing in some ways. When we highly anticipate something, we’re excited. You get giddy just thinking about it. Your mind starts to build up all these different scenarios about how that highly anticipated event is going to pan out. And sometimes, our expectations are met. For example, this past weekend I was highly anticipating dinner with my friends at our fav pizza place, Emma’s. Thinking about that pizza actually makes me drool. Said pizza did not let us down. So my expectations were met.
On the other hand, sometimes we can be disappointed. For example, my mom and I were down the shore over the summer and we decided to try Pete and Elda’s, a very popular pizza place. So popular that we have actually been there before but left because the wait was so long. My family eats there a lot and talks about it a lot, and I love pizza, so this was a highly anticipated event. I was pumped. I ate my artichoke pizza, stoked that they even had artichokes as a topping because a lot of places don’t, tried my mom’s meatball pizza, and overrall I was not impressed. And still hungry. Maybe the pizza was good, but I was expecting phenomenal because of all of the anticipation. No hate to Pete and Elda, but I think Emma has better thin crust pizza than you guys :/.
What I’m trying to say is, anticipation can get you in trouble. Though nothing, and I mean nothing, is more satisfying than when you’re so excited for something and it finally happens and it meets or even exceeds your expectations. That feeling is euphoric. But it also stinks being disappointed. Like, a lot.
Which brings me to my next point: anticipating my last. day. of. chemo. I am in the home stretch. Honestly, I’m basically home at this point, I’m just fumbling around in my pockets to find my keys to the locked door (which happens a lot here at home, I know the best window to climb through if locked out). These past six months have been filled with boredom and boredom and some throw up and more boredom. And I can’t wait for it to be over. I am itching to move on from this chapter of my life. My last chemo is the most highly-anticipated event of the year, maybe possibly of my whole life, and truth be told, it makes me nervous.
I had a rough week last week, my stomach is still not right. And because of that I am anticipating the end of chemo even more. I envision myself, walking out of those hospital doors, with “We are the Champions” blasting and wind blowing in my hair. My doctors and nurses and the staff at NYP cheering me on as I wave like a queen to them. “Goodbye all, I’ll remember you when I’m famous,” I’ll say. And then a ticker-tape parade awaits me on York Ave and we have the police escort us all the way home, as I stick my head out of the car like a dog and say “I AM A FREE WOMAN.” And then I get home and there’s a plate of hot dogs and a bowl of salad and sushi. And I eat it all. And I don’t throw up.
And then my doctor requests a psych consult because that is all DELUSIONAL. I know that’s not how it will be. Not even in a perfect world would that happen, because I don’t have hair to blow in the wind. In my head when I picture this scenario, I see hair on my head. I actually forget that I am bald.
I think you can see though that this day is going to be life-changing. No, the last day of chemo does not mean I am cancer free, just yet. But it means that I don’t have to deal with feeling like doodoo anymore. And that my body will finally start to recover. And my hair will grow back (although leg and armpit hair, you can stay away).
I’ve been anticipating this day since I started chemo, actually probably since I got diagnosed. And now that it’s finally almost here, I just want it to go smoothly. That’s all I ask. Honestly, I don’t expect a party or being carried out of the hospital on a throne by shirtless men. I would just like to not be stuck in traffic for three hours or not have to wait for chemo to start for another four hours and maybe, just maybe, I won’t have to take Neupogen shots. And I can hope that the endorphins or dopamine or adrenaline or whatever is released when you get excited, can put the nausea at bay, so that I can enjoy my first days of freedom without my head being in the toilet. But hey, if all the bad stuff does happen, and my anticipation proves to have disappointed me, I’ll get through. Because I’ve done it all before, and I’ll do it all again.
Happy Tuesday my hunnies. It’s a beautiful day to do beautiful things. And it’s my pal Lilly’s last day of freakin’ chemo. After over a year of her Tuesday’s being spent at the hospital, she can finally say buh-bye. She deserves a parade. She deserves the best dance party in the world. She deserves a good old hamburger.