Well, I'm home from the doctor.
The PICC is still in.
I might not be done chemo.
Doc said that how much chemo is controversial and he and the radiologist need to go over my chart and determine if I need more chemo or if I'm ready for radiation.
More chemo, he said, means less radiation, which in the long run is a good thing. Chemo is better for you than radiation.
I wouldn't have emotional or psychological problems with this at all if I hadn't had a countdown to today, what was supposed to be the last day of chemo.
I wouldn't feel silly emailing and calling people who were planning to come to my celebratory dinner, telling them that we can still have dinner, but it's not so celebratory. (Well, it might be. I don't know yet.)
The office is setting up something with the radiologist, Dr. Radiation, and then they'll call me. I don't know if that means they'll call today, but I double-checked before I left, and they said they were working on it and they'll call me. OK. I have to go in tomorrow for a shot anyway, so if I haven't heard, I can ask then.
It's as if The Grand Puppeteer saw that I wasn't going to cry today, since I didn't need to have an IV put in, and thought something else to induce tears should be mixed in. This induced many more tears than the IVs do...
That's my story. I don't really like today's chapter.
the smallest of flashes
1 week ago