I do not want to do this

I feel so good right now that it took every ounce of gumption in my body to drive to chemo today. The weather is gorgeous; autumn is my time of year. I was strong enough to go to the gym twice this week and walk the dogs when I didn't go. I was getting really close to being able to taste again. I feel so normal that I wanted to cry this morning knowing I have to start feeling bad again.

I thought I would tell my doctor that everybody on a 6-month/12-time regimen of chemo needs a week off, but now I'm not so sure. Feeling so good makes it twice as hard to voluntarily sit calmly for more poison. Especially when you don't even think you need it.

I still have to act normal. I still have to go out with people on the weekends, work in the yard, go to church--all hooked up to my weekend pump. It's embarrassing and inconvenient. All I really want to do is curl up and not talk, drink tepid water (because water with ice burns going down), eat crackers, not real food. If I were alone, that is probably what I would do.

I don't mean to feel sorry for myself because I don't really. I just want to do what I want to do when I feel bad. And maybe I won't feel bad. Who knows. Maybe I'll breeze through this treatment because I had a week's break. Part of the anxiety is in not knowing and anticipating the worse. That is NOT positive thinking, I'm afraid.

I have to keep up appearances, smile while I'm here getting poked, act like this is no big deal. And really it's not compared to what some people go through. There is some hacking going on in this waiting room, people with masks, but mostly everybody looks normal today. No green people. They're all reading or working crossword puzzles. Just waiting to see the doctor or to get hooked up to chemo.

It's so beautiful outside; I can't wait to bask in it, put my face to the sun, squint, sit, sip a beer (or even apple-cranberry juice, which tastes really good.)

Maybe next year.