Anticipation

Lately I've been living in the present so much that I haven't given much thought to anything ahead of me - in fact I've practically made a rule of it... but for one exception. Our family is travelling to Cairns this October to celebrate mum and dad's milestone birthdays, and I have been looking forward to it like crazy. It's the only thing I have had that 'Christmas' feeling about lately, you know, the excitement that Christmas is coming, and no matter what happens it's going to be great because you're a kid and that's what Christmas is like. My excitement now, however, is different to a normal holiday. I haven't worked for nearly a year, so it's not like this holiday is an escape from normal working life, to recuperate from the stresses and workloads associated with a career, long working hours, and heavy responsibilities. It's more an escape from my current life.

My anticipation of this upcoming holiday was heightened when I recently bought some bathers that hide my new set of grievances with my body, which replaced the old ones. Old grievances included white skin, thighs that wobbled and hips that just didn't look right. Bah. That was nothing. New grievances have been covered elsewhere in this blog, but are far more significant to my way of thinking: ileostomy, chemo port, big scars and a shrunken frame that wobbles now because it's mostly skin and low on muscle. But my new bathers miraculously hide/distract from all of that and make me feel amazing. Bring on the sunshine and poolside lounging!

I have been picturing all sorts of things I'm going to be doing on this holiday "because I might be better by then". By that I mean I may be able to walk without a stick, may be able to walk further than a few hundred metres without stopping for a rest, may be able balance better and be physically equipped to plan more than one outing or activity per day, and even do things on consecutive days without scheduling a rest day in between. That would be better than I am now.

But amazingly, this week I have been dancing. In the kitchen, the lounge room and the bathroom. I have to keep both feet grounded so I don't fall over, but the hips and upper body just go for it: the milkshake, the sprinkler, parts of the hustle, whatever. I'm just making it up. But I am dancing.  The bathroom is well heated, so on Tuesday, chemo day, I danced in the bathroom in my bra and undies. I DID NOT CARE what my body looked like. I was in Boogie Wonderland. Kool and the Gang, The Trammps, Gloria Gaynor, Wild Cherry and Lipps Inc were partly to blame (if you were born after 1990 you may have to look them up) but the dancing came about for one specific reason, a new feeling of anticipation, something else that has stealthily crept up on me. Chemo is nearly finished. NEARLY FINISHED I tell you. And I only just realised.

I'm not sure why it took my eleventh treatment to make me look forward to the last one, but it's like I couldn't see it until it was almost upon me. During chemo you're so focused on getting through the days and weeks, tracking the side effects, planning activities and outings for what might be “good days” and cautiously factoring-in rest days, updating prescriptions and ensuring all supplies are on hand, like ten back up boxes of tissues for the daily blood noses, and cranberry juice to keep the digestive tract sorted. You don't look much further than the day you're dealing with, chemo week or non chemo week.

So when Tuesday came around this week it dawned on me: after this, there's one to go. I will be free of the week on/week off mentality. Instead of expecting to get knocked down every fortnight, I can expect to slowly and steadily improve in strength and health and energy and capability, can’t I? OMG. How good would that be??? I could work. I could garden. I could eventually walk my dog. AWESOME!!

Of course, in reality, the end of chemo has been in the furthest reaches of my mind, on a distant horizon for some time, as I'm always anxious to get back to work in particular, activity in general and living properly like I used to. I've had to exercise all kinds of patience over the past 11 months and readjust my expectations at every turn. I can't just assume I'll be better in the snap of thumb and finger, I will have to pace myself. But still, I can be happy about the end of chemo can't I??

My oncologist says yes.

So you can join me in the final countdown. In fourteen days I will undergo my last disconnection from chemotherapy, portable and stationary.

My journey from patient cancer patient to cancer disco dancer will be complete.