As I typed the title, I was singing it to the tune of "Party in the USA." 😃 You're welcome if that is now stuck in your head as it is mine!
On my last day of infusion chemo (January 28, 2020), my sweet husband and sister threw together a last-minute surprise party. I was humbled to see those who took time out of their day to cheer me on as I walked out of my last treatment. So many others were there in spirit as well since it was the middle of a workweek. Let's just say I was really surprised. I knew they were planning something because, well, Amy was being a little weird 🧐. As my port was flushed, the chemo nurses gathered around my chair and sang "Hit the Road Jack." I giggled through tears. And thought this was the surprise that Amy was putting together and she missed it!!! She had stepped out for a phone call. When actually she was getting everyone hidden so the first person I would see would be Michael.
At the cancer center, when you complete your last radiation, you get to ring a bell in the lobby. And because everyone was there I decided to ring the bell a day early so everyone could witness. I have looked at this bell every day since December 13. No one had rung it since I started radiation. I always thought that ringing the bell would not be that big of a deal.
I mean... it's a bell. Who hasn't rung a bell before?
Then I stepped in front of that bell and the last few months of emotions came barrelling down on me and the tears would not stop. The fear, the heartbreak, the anger, the joy all came crashing down on me at once and it was an emotional overload that I could not process. All I could think about doing was getting in the arms of Michael as he stood there waiting and watching.
Holy Moly, watching the video today still makes me cry.
A bittersweet part of finishing treatment is realizing that I was not going to be seeing "the girls" every day. Angels. There is no other way to describe all the people that work at the Ray & Kay Eckstein Regional Cancer Care Center in Paducah, KY. Everyone from the valet to the registration staff was just amazing. I had the most incredible experience there. The girls always made me feel comfortable. They offered tips and advice and encouragement. They are always smiling! They did not hesitate to hug me. {Pre COVID ya} I had prayers said over me. I was honestly going to miss seeing them all. I have worked in healthcare for 19 years in outpatient physical therapy. I now understand when patients say they are going to miss us.
Later that night as I was thinking back on the day, I questioned if we should have celebrated. I knew I was not finished with chemo. In 4 weeks, I was going to begin a new regimen of chemo pills that were specific to melanoma. But I stopped myself. It's okay to celebrate what we may be tempted to call "small steps" with our cancer journey. I made it through 4 of the worst months of my life. Dehydration. Not able to eat. Diarrhea. Fatigue. Emotional roller coaster. Multiple surgeries. My tonsils out. I. MADE. IT. Because, friends, I was questioning if I was going to. Thus I made the executive decision that it was perfectly okay to celebrate my last infusion chemo.
It was okay to celebrate completing this stage of cancer.
- I celebrated not having to sit in the chair anymore and receive all day infusions.
- I celebrated knowing that I had made it through the roughest medical treatment I have ever had in my life.
- I celebrated Michael being the best husband through this.
- I celebrated knowing my hair would start growing back.
- I celebrated being surrounded throughout this treatment by friends and family.
- Most importantly, I celebrated God keeping His promise of getting me through this.
Choose to Celebrate
I chose to celebrate the milestone of completing the infusion treatment. I encourage you to do the same. Celebrate the small stuff. Celebrate the completion of one treatment even if you start a new one tomorrow. Because you made it through that part! Don't worry about the next phases to come. You conquered this part of your journey.
I know some read this blog and have not experienced cancer. I believe this message can apply to you as well. Celebrate the test you passed. Celebrate making it for two weeks without a cigarette. Celebrate finding the courage to stand up to a bully. Celebrate making the hard step of going back to school. Heck, somedays you just need to celebrate getting up and taking a shower!!!!
Cancer has taught me that I have to make the choice to find joy in whatever I am facing. And it's not easy.
Cancer has taught me there are going to be bad days. Days where you cry, and cuss, and throw stuff. And it is okay. In the words of Courtney, you can have a day but then you have to pick yourself and get back to living. And if you can't pull yourself out of the dumps then you need to talk to someone. Again it is a choice that you make to move on or seek help.
Each day you wake with a choice to make. Will you choose to focus on the bad in your life and host a pity party? Or will you say "not today, Satan?"
Share below something that you want to celebrate!