This morning Tessa had another bone marrow biopsy, and early this evening her first bag of chemo was hung up for the start of the intensification phase. She will receive chemo for three hours at a time every twelve hours. She will be in the hospital until Thursday, go home and then return again next Tuesday (providing everything goes perfectly while here now) for her final round. The preliminary results from her biopsy look great, but we will know more tomorrow and next week.
Now I am quite superstitious…(maybe that’s not the right word) therefore typing all of the above feels like I am bending the “rules” a bit. Not like I have some sort of universal control of circumstances, and I am well aware that the things I do say and the feelings that I feel do not affect the outcome of any situation…but damn, it sure feels that way now and again. Dan calls that crazy; and, well, on occasion he is probably right.
Tessa’s doctors spoke to us a lot today about the end of treatment and what was next. It felt surreal. She is so close. She is almost cancer free. I actually said to Dan, “I feel like we can’t talk about that yet, can we?” Can we? Well yes of course it is great to talk about our excitement for life after cancer…for normal. I am trusting my faith and giving all that I can to get her through this.
Today was an emotionally charged day for me, especially this morning prior to her biopsy. My nerves are fried. I am nervous for the rest of treatment. Above all of the excitement and anxiety and the worry, I am scared…really scared. There I said it. I snapped at the day treatment nurse, cried my eyes out when Tessa screamed through her frustration when everyone entered the room and cried even harder when she was sedated. So as exciting as the end is, this is real life right now. And somewhere in my rambling tonight I am finding that closing the gap on this portion of our lives–of her life–is coming with a complicated mix of fear, joy, and a hefty dose of anxiety. But that is just fine. I suppose it is even [gasp] normal.
Fast forwarding through the next month and a half is not an option, so I have to patiently remind myself to breath and cheer her on as she crosses the finish line. Here we go…