A Spork in the Road

I think I’m finally realizing that chemo is almost over.

I’ve had mixed feelings about ending chemo. There is a sense of flying off the edge of a cliff into the unknown; chemo has been solid earth, preventing me from plunging back into cancer. Now I have to fly solo, and that’s disconcerting.

“What if it comes back?” The question haunts any survivor.

But today, wrapping up infusion # 11 and looking ahead at a solitary treatment in two weeks, I’ve finally felt elation.

My hands are swollen, my breathing labored, my stomach uncertain, but there’s only one day of toxicity left and then freedom. Freedom from the side effects roller coaster. Freedom from “I have cancer” (now it’s “had”). Freedom from losing days of work and frantically trying to catch up in week two; freedom dividing my life into week one (”that’s week one, I won’t feel like doing much”) and week two.

I’m one of those kids who pushes hardest when I see the finish line. Arms pumping, lungs screaming, legs burning, just sprint, sprint, sprint sprint-sprint-

I see the finish line.