Right now, I am slow-dripping my way through my 30th chemo treatment in under two years. This is a weird milestone for so many reasons.

1)      I never thought I’d be in a position to need 30 chemo treatments.

2)      There was definitely no assurance that I would survive to 30 chemo treatments.

3)      I’ve never had 30 of anything else medical, outside of physicals and teeth cleanings.

4)      The same body that helped create my cancer has also helped me pull strongly through all 30.

That last one is the weirdest. It’s like a bully beating you up at school, then immediately offering you a hand and saying “let me teach you how to fight now, but I may find new ways to beat you up later.”

Outside of the benchmark, things have been unusually routine. Haven’t missed a treatment, will get new scans in April after treatment #32. Side effects remain relatively predictable. I saw where some cancer patients call the chemo ball a chemo grenade, and I will now never call it anything else. #ChemoGrenade

Having a more reliable schedule means I now see more regulars, by which I mean people who are on the same schedule at Camp Chemo. There’s a woman about my age I talked to and shared tips with when she arrived for her first chemo day. Her and her mom now LOVE finding me as she fights. There’s a slightly older, clearly blue-collar country boy, not a talker, but always gives that knowing nod and squint of comrades in arms. And an older woman who quietly giggles when me and the infusion nurses give each other a hard time. Other faces too. All with their stories, many of them surely more interesting than mine. But for now, all working to stick around to tell them.

In related news, I Googled myself for the first time in awhile (Oh shut up, you do it too), and humbly discovered I was on a list of good cancer reads on cholangiocarcinoma.org. If you want to other viewpoints on this dark and stormy battle, check out the list.

And even they mentioned the music, so we’re doubling up on the recent discoveries again. First, an amthem from Seattle chanteuse Brandi Carlisle about pretty much everything right now. 

And then, a pensive, introspective look at… I’m just kidding. It’s a great rock song from Anderson East with a horn section and a handclap line that keep my head bobbin’ along. Even for me, the lyrics don’t matter once in awhile.