I’m putting off my next chemo.
It’s okay, though. I talked to the nurses at the Cancer Center, who then talked to the doctor and he approved my decision to delay the next round for a week.
It will probably seem trivial but I felt like it was important to wait a week before having the next one.
See, Alyssa’s choir trip to Chicago is the weekend of November 17. I was accepted at a chaperone before I was even diagnosed, before surgery, before chemo. Before…
We paid for both Alyssa’s and my costs for the trip. We’ve had this planned for months. I’m going to room with Nora’s and Tasha’s moms. It’s going to be awesome.
Except, it almost wasn’t because I was originally scheduled to have chemo on November 14, just three days before we boarded the bus and headed to Chicago for two days and a night of shows and walking and eating and socializing.
And I knew that if I had the chemotherapy on the 14th, I was going to be miserable to the point of possibly not even going. I mean, what’s the point if I couldn’t walk more than a block without needing to rest or not being able to eat due to nausea and just a general feeling of yuck?
So I talked to the nurses, explaining the situation. They were sympathetic and the doctor made the final call, which was that it wouldn’t hurt me or my chemo schedule to put it off for a week. So yay.
Tom questioned whether this was a good idea.
I pointed out that the whole reason we’re doing this is because I want to live. I want to be here for my girls. I want to be here this week, and next month and in 2021 and when they find partners and if they decide to have babies. I want to live.
And I need to continue living right now as much as I can. Going on this trip makes the chemo that I’ll have the week of Thanksgiving worth it. It makes everything more clear, it makes me remember why I’m suffering through the effects of chemo.
Because I want to live.