Happy No Mo Chemo

We celebrated the end of chemo with a trip to Vegas. Not our first choice, but there was a business conference so much of the celebrating could be considered an expense. I had shaved my head the night before my final chemo when I watched a video of myself dancing under lights that somehow were able to show how much hair I had actually lost during the past 6 months far better than my own bathroom lights could. My double mastectomy was scheduled for shortly after our return and so we tried to fill in as much fun as possible.
I managed a few pretty full days as long as I had a complete day of rest in-between. I scheduled a mani, a pedi and a massage; we ate at the best restaurants and talked about paying as much attention to my soon to be gone breasts as possible.
The day we returned I cried. I was just not able to keep up with Jim and the luggage. I remember the transport driver yelling at me to hurry up. And then I remember crying from the pure exhaustion of it all. Something so simple as scurrying through an airport, or going to lunch, or making it to the party the final night of the conference had done me in. I was a shell of my former self and the thought of more surgery just made me all the weaker.

I cannot even tell you the date of my double mastectomy. I know it was in November. I think it was after Thanksgiving, but I'm not sure. That is how inconsequential it became to me. I still mourn the loss of my breasts to this day and the trauma I went through losing them, but it compared in no way to what was to come next.


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