"What are you doing to celebrate?"
This was the question everyone asked when I told them that
I'd had my last session of chemotherapy.
And why not? We'd made a policy
of celebrating every step of the way so surely we'd have a big celebration
planned to mark the end of the chemo era?
The only problem was that I didn't feel like
celebrating. Give me a week, I told
people, when I feel better and then we'll celebrate properly. But here I am, two weeks later, and I still
don't feel like a celebration. My arms
and legs still ache and feel weak. I get
short of breath if I attempt more than one flight of stairs. When I look in the mirror I see a bald head,
no eyebrows or lashes and ugly red Taxol cheeks. My nails are brown and painful. And I don't sleep well thanks to ongoing hot
flashes and embarrassing itching.
I'm still waiting to celebrate being free of chemotherapy.
Today, however, I met good friends for a catch-up lunch and
we went somewhere I have wanted to go for ages - the restaurant on the top floor
of the Brussels Museum of Musical Instruments, a beautiful art deco building
with great views over town. As our food
arrived, it occurred to me that I would normally be at hospital at that time, every
week, with a needle in my arm. I might
not feel better yet, but at least I don't have to do that anymore.
I took my first bite of delicious steak, shared a laugh with
my friends and looked out over the domes and rooftops of Brussels - and raised
my glass to celebrate the end of chemotherapy.
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