La Dernière Séance

It's been five weeks yesterday since I had my last chemo session, which always includes meeting with the oncologist in the morning before the treatment.  During our discussion, we went through the checklist of my symptoms following the previous treatment and there were practically none except the increased loss of feeling in my fingers and especially my feet which have become even painful at times.  She acknowledged that this is an unfortunate and common side effect of the treatment and assured me that I would recover from this although insinuating that it could take months.
We returned to Heuchin where we rejoined Alec and Virginie, Madelaine, Richard and Élodie for several weeks of family fun.  For me, the best way to recover from the last treatment was to be distracted by the kids and The Most Beautiful Baby Girl.  Most mornings when I would get up and go to the kitchen I would find Richard making his first cup of coffee and Élodie in her baby-bouncer.  When I greeted her I would be rewarded with a big smile and after a couple of weeks even some cooing.  I could just get lost in her smiling eyes and everything else in the world ceased to exist.  Now I understand why Buddhist literature often mention children's smiles or laughter as a means of bringing one into the moment.
But how quickly I can forget all my lessons of patience accumulated over the past months.  Almost as soon as began to actually integrate the fact that I was in remission, I was confronted with my old friends, Vanity and Impatience.  "OK, fine, I'm over the cancer. When do I get to have hair? And don't forget about the eyebrows and eyelashes either!" 
Last week, Mr. T and I went on vacation for the first time since my recovery. Although we didn't have as much sunshine and lavender in Provence as we would have liked, it was great to be taking a real vacation.  I realized that "going away on vacation" is not the same thing as "not working".  So I could really feel that life was slowly beginning to return to normal.  I'm still reminded that I'm not yet out of the woods every time I look in the mirror or when I try and take those first painful steps in the morning on my wooden-blocks-for-feet.
I am so anxious to not only turn the page but to close the book entirely that I find that I have been avoiding all things related to being sick, such as writing in my blog.  It's taken me five weeks to sit down and write again because I have been deliberately avoiding it.  It struck me yesterday how selfish that was because I am also avoiding all those folks who have stood by me throughout this incredible experience.  It's as if I don't want anyone to ask me how I'm doing since it reminds me of having been sick for so many months.  Actually, I should be a bit more grateful to be able to say that I'm doing really well all things considered.    
In reality, I am hugely grateful that I have had this heavy feeling of "what if or what next" lifted from me.  It's tempting to use the out-of-the-can expression of "a sense of impending doom", but I don't remember every really feeling like that.  I knew that women died from what I had; I knew that the statistics were not favorable to say the least; I was occasionally awash with fear of dying, but I just kept plugging along doing the next best thing.  I hung onto the words of Mr. T (who normally puts the bar so high that's it's hardly worth undertaking whatever the endeavor may be): "You don't have to win the gold, you just have to be on the podium".  And so here I am.
So now I'm in the post-cancer phase which includes check-ups every three months to begin with and which will probably taper off to every six months eventually.  I also have my immunization treatment which will start in September and last for several weeks.  However, there are no side effects to be worried about so I just have to show up and take the shots at regular intervals.  
I'm beginning to think about going back to work which was something I couldn't even consider  a month ago.  It's hard to imagine getting back into the swing of things but I guess that all things come in time.
So before closing out this blog, I would like to thank my friends and family for all of the support, from near or from far, that I have received.  When I realize how much folks were "rooting" for me, I wonder how I ever could have felt lonely before.  


Now I know that after the fog comes the sun, and "it's gonna be a bright, bright sunshiny day!"