Here's the thing. Chemo has short circuited my cerebrum. This is about the 9th time I'm trying to write this. Words are not flowing freely. I mean "I've survived surfing on waves of positive vibes". Who writes that badly? Turns out I do. Me and aging hippies doing that free writing course in Haight-Ashbury.
My chemo fog is bad. Very, very, very bad. (Insert your own adverbial phrase please 'very' is all I can muster.) Please forgive me if my wit is witless, my sarcasm lost on myself and my sense of irony so literal that, unlike Alanis, it's not ironic, don't you think? Where were we? I have no idea.
I'm done with chemo. I had my last round just under 2 weeks ago. The usual side effects, plus some lovely new ones: My feet are constantly freezing cold, my finger nails look like crinkly potato chips and my skin has gone so thin that my temporary breasts have shifted to almost under my armpits. Attractive right?
I'm moving from cancer victim to cancer survivor. And that, my lovely, loyal readers, is the Happy Ending. I'm riding into the sunset with my bald head slathered in SPF100. Yeeeha.
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DONE |
I will be updating the blog from time to time to let you know how I'm doing and to post pictures of my slow growing hair.