#lingeringhugs

Well I’m over the shitty hump of this last chemo. I genuinely think it’s the last one before Houston. Like a terrible breakup, cancer has been a real dick. Always throwing in wrenches when I least expect them, and never letting me have a moment of peace. 

When I think about this being my last round, it’s almost bittersweet. Am I going to miss being pumped full of toxic chemicals (literally my nurse wears a hazmat suit to inject this shit)? Of course I am. Who doesn’t love being a walking hazardous waste dump? The facility is nothing to speak of...sure, it reminds me of the hospital that builds the nightmares of children, but it works. 

As a separate story, the floor where I get my chemo is currently working on a gas line...I’m sure the appropriate safety measures have been taken as it’s been roped off with what I’ll assume is flame retardant material...anyway, I bet the elderly woman who’s room is next to said gas line construction is shitting her pants! If that were my room, I’d be like “screw it, this is how I end!” I’m going to give you a minute to let that sink in....because I laughed about that for at least ten minutes. 

Anyway, back to what makes this last chemo sad. It’s the people. I’ve seen and talked to my care team more than most of my family, and in a way they’ve become friends. Like one sided friends, where you think you’re like best buddies, but then you ask them to get tacos they nervously shift away from you sort of friends. Anyway, they’ve become an integral part of my life. I seek their advice, mostly for Falls latest fashion trends, but a few cancer questions pop up. They understand me in intimate ways that I truly hope no one else does, and they’re all around the best care team I could ever ask for. They have made this cancer shit bearable, they’ve returned smiles when I felt like they were gone, and helped me find my humor again. If nothing else comes from this, and it doesn’t prolong my life, I will have been bettered by the fact that I was able to call them “my team”.