It’s been three months since my last chemo treatment and I have to say, I feel pretty good.

Nausea is all but gone. I can make it through a busy day without thinking once about a nap. And even some of my strength and coordination are returning.

So it was with mixed feelings when I heard that my white blood cell count was just high enough to go at it again.

While I want to get through this thing and move on, I kinda liked feeling a sense of normalcy.

Anyhoozleberrypiealamode, I’m now on a different chemo. I think they keep switching the chemos because some chemos kill some things, some chemos kill other things, some are really hard on you, and some are not so hard on you. So the fart smellers at UW mix it up to keep my body guessing as the potpourri of toxins route out hiding cancer cells and/or give my body a break when one chemo pummels me too hard.

It’s kinda like dueling thugs attacking you in a back alley: “Hey, quit stabbing her, she’s going to bleed to death. Punch her in the face for a while. Yeah, yeah, then we’ll kick her in the shins!”

Only maybe not quite so gross. And certainly not so mean-spirited.

So having gone from Vincristine once a week for five weeks (during radiation) to Cysplatin and Lomustine once every six weeks, I’m now getting a two-day infusion (2700 milligrams total) of Cytoxan.

If my body can take it, I’ll get two more rounds of the Cysplatin/Lomustine and one more round of Cytoxan…And then I’m done (though hopefully not done for).

Mia came up from Portland this week and has been my chemo buddy and right-hand man for a few days.

I’m telling you, there’s nothing quite like the power of friendship and fun to make chemo feel like not such a bad thing.

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