and six

and so tomorrow is Monday, my last day of chemo. Six out of six. 100%. Perfect score. I made it. I remember the week after my first chemo saying to myself, "18 weeks of feeling like this? You've got it be kidding. How can I do this?" And now, the last. Calls for a haiku:

last chemo haiku

this is the best thing
and then the very most hard
and it will be done

last chemo haiku


I am kinda amazed that something so intense as chemo can deplete at the same time as it can cure. I'm amazed at so much lately. Each day, each day I am touched and held by deep friends and family, and people I don't know well, the nice lady at Walgreens who knows I have cancer and tells me to be well, the friend's partner who insists on rubbing my head (which I love). People. Are. Kind. 

I'm making cookies in the morning for all the kind docs and nurses at University, and they are gonna be the best cookies ever, because they will be baked with all the love I've been receiving during all this chemo, this chemo, this, will be the last chemo. 

more to come, but I wanted to start a little post now, while I wait for tomorrow and what it may bring. I am really looking forward to Monday. (and you never know what may have been just 5 floors away from you the whole time.)

much love,
hol