And We Have a Winner.

Dear All,

I am up, I am dressed, I have discarded the heavy "chemo coat" that enfolds me and weighs me down every cycle... I sit here with relief that yet another round has been overcome and that, while the side effects are still with me, they are fading with every day, and I am still standing.

This Round #6 felt different than the others. Admittedly, I dreaded this cycle terribly - that anxious anticipation of knowing what is to come, of waiting for the poison to begin to make its presence felt under my skin, of preparing myself for the long hours of curling up in a ball under the covers and braving the quiet storm within, of accepting the fact that my precious moments with James would be fewer for a little while. I battled with the word "cumulative" - my friend in knowing that the power of this medicine with every hit was all the stronger to heal me, my foe in knowing that in that very power it had that potential to simultaneously hurt me more. And I hung on the words "Round #6" - when first diagnosed, this had been proposed as the end of the chemo, a major turning point,... now it marked one of a series of consecutive stepping stones in an ongoing fight that was far from over. So, yes, while I was as ready as I ever could be when I walked into the Chemo Day Unit last Wednesday, while my attitude was shouting "beat the f@#*!r" from every pore, I took my seat and was hooked up with trepidation and a sense of heaviness.

And again, this Round #6 felt different than the others. I chalk it up to the mind. Maybe I had so anticipated the physical hit of this round that, unconsciously, I had prepped myself all the more to rely on my mind to get me through. Who knows...? As with all cycles, I did curl up in a ball under the covers for what felt like an eternity, I did drift in and out of sleep as the feeling of being "unplugged" took hold for several days, I did feel the side effects make their mark one by one. But I was more "present" in the battle. My mind did not adopt that foetal position, my mind did not unplug, my mind took on the side effects and said, "I can do this". I visualized like never before - the medicine cleaning up the "dirty patches" on my body, washing the shadows with light. My healthy, pink and vibrant cells joining hands and surrounding the less healthy ones in a circle and, in a group hug, squeezing the illness away with a "Pop"!, followed by a loud group cheer. James kicking away any "pebbles" in my body with his strong, chubby feet. Friends and family helping me to "spring clean" the parts of me that were dark and dusty, using cloths and hoovers, and mops, and sanders. Light, light, light everywhere. I talked to my body, thanking it quietly for braving the storm and being so strong - my limbs, my heart, my kidneys, my stomach, my lungs, my liver... I can still feel what remains of the tumors in my breast and in my lymph node, both of which swelled and throbbed in pain the days after chemo... rather than be frightened by it, I gave those parts many pep talks from under the covers, "Come on body, you can do this... the medicine is doing its part to fight, but give it a hand, let's help it shrink things. You can do this. I am proud of you. I know it's hard, but you can do this. There's no room for the cancer anymore, see?" ... and with every twinge, I would visualize the tumors give up, let go, get smaller. Call me crazy, but it felt good to be so mentally present, even all the while that my body just seemed to want to escape from the hell it was going through. And I viscerally felt that I was winning, that's the even crazier part. I can't put it into words - I just knew that I was winning this round hands down. And in the midst of feeling like absolute shit, I felt great. And in the midst of the anxiety and fear that visit me as regular reminders of my battle, I felt a peace that I have not felt in a long time. A turning point, I guess: I believed in my believing that I will win.

So, again, Round #6 has been different than the others. I pushed myself to get out of bed more, I managed to eat and drink more. I dreamed more of the future, and all the things I want to do and share with you all. I felt my body rebound more readily. I managed to spend more time with James. And despite the "cumulative", despite the "there is still yet another round, and then more chemo after that", despite the hurdles that still seem to tower over me in a seemingly endless succession and the deep breaths I still need to take for months to come, I feel I can do this.

And you know what was one of the more striking moments to me of this round? While sitting in the Chemo Day Unit, a woman walked in to get her scheduled immune boosting shot (she is a lovely lady in her 50's, just exudes kindness), and mentioned to the nurse. "It's been a disappointing morning - my doctor told me that my tumor has not shrunk at all after my 6 cycles. It hasn't grown, but it hasn't shrunk". And, as I listened, I felt lucky. Lucky! A word that I would never have associated with this stage in the fight. But I did. I felt lucky. And grateful. And I held onto that, in the days that followed.

I have had the soundtrack of "The Prince of Tides" playing in the background as I have typed. It is one of my most favourite pieces of music. The section entitled "End Credits" is for me "hope" in music form - it just carries the soul. The whole album just speaks to me - it always has, since I first bought it as a teenager.

I must go and lie down for a bit. I hope that you all had a lovely Easter, and thank you for all of your messages, as always... every single one of them. They made Round #6 be all that more of a victory for me. And Alexis - know that I am your biggest fan, and that I think you are simply too wonderful for words.