Yesterday, that was.
I’m still rather boggled about the whole thing. No more chemo… Because it worked. All done.
I bought four flower arrangements: one for the front desk and administrative staff; one for the assistants who log me in, enter all my latest vitals, escort me to the doc when it’s time; another one for all the nurses and assistants in the chemo suite; and a big one for the chemo suite itself and all the patients I’m leaving behind.
The nurses, assistants, and admin people were stunned – they said no one’s ever done that for them before. Later, my oncologist came by (Sabine and I had already thanked her, and hugged her), and she thanked me, saying no one had ever thought to do that for the staff before.
I say, why the heck not? These women (and they are all women) do not get enough appreciation, in my opinion. And they all participated in saving my actual life. They should get lots of love, from everybody. I wish I could give them all trips to Paris, but it’s illegal to do that. Plus, I can’t afford it. Flowers — that, I can do.
Then they gave me flowers.
There’s a tradition at this hospital. .. they have a bell by the door– a brass bell with a plaque attached, which says that persons leaving the chemo suite for the last time are to ring the bell three times to declare that they are DONE! The staff all gathered around, Krista handed me a reflex mallet (“Hit with the metal handle!“). And I rang that bell. The guy with the guitar played a little fanfare. We all hugged. They gave me the flowers. We hugged again. We all got misty. I forgot to take a photo of the bell. But I got a picture of the gang:
Tomorrow, my chemo port gets removed! I thought I’d have to wait for a opening, but yesterday afternoon I got a call, and they had scheduled me for Thursday! It’s out-patient, so it should be a piece of cake. (The last time I saw my surgeon, I mentioned that I heard that they sometimes pull out the port with no anaesthesia at all, and was that what he was going to do? And his immediate response was: “Fuck, NO!” I like him.)
So… port out tomorrow, then an echocardiogram in a couple of weeks (to check up on the possible Herceptin side-effects). Then… check in with the oncologist every three months.
No more actual treatments. It seems a little unreal.