Chemo, round 1904830924132841287

I was originally scheduled to begin this new chemo on December 2nd. For a number of reasons, it's been pushed back twice. The delays have been welcome, but I'll begin next Tuesday. 

I've been thinking about it a lot lately. 

It's a 30 minute infusion. Short. The drug is supposed to be lighter on patients than the drugs I've been on before. It's more of a preventative measure than it is reactive. 

The science behind it is extremely strong. There is no doubt this is what is best for me. 

And yet, I really, really wish I didn't have to do it.

These are wasted thoughts and emotions. Woe is me. Why me? I wish life were more fair blah blah blah. 

As aware as I am of the waste that it is--worrying about or dreading or wishing away something that is beyond my control and is happening--I can't help myself. It's just a kick in the nuts. 

I thought I was done. That was mistake #1. 

"No more chemo, ever, hopefully. I received my last dose of this process earlier this morning. 

It was exciting and shitty all at the same time. Exciting because of the obvious--I

Might actually be done with willingly injecting poison into my body."-Me, on September 21st, in Ann Arbor

Idiot. 

This will never be over. That just isn't the way it works. This a lifetime sentence. 

Even after I'm officially in remission, and life returns to "normal," I'll be in a cancer clinic multiple times a year for all kinds of a tests and checkups. I'm at risk for numerous other cancers and health complications simply due to the drugs I've been exposed to. 

To some extent, whether the disease is active or not, I will "have cancer" in my life forever.

That box will be checked on every form I fill out from now until the end. 

More treatment, and specifically, more chemo, was always a possibility. 

Hell, in reality, it was more than a possibility. 

It was statistically probable, even if I didn't realize that until now. 

It's not a mistake I'll make again. 

I've been told before to expect a certain chemo drug to be "easier on me" than others, and they weren't--not at all. 

I've been told that resuming normal life and work and the rest wouldn't be affected by certain drugs--that also wasn't true. 

So what I'm saying, is my skepticism is founded in experience.

It's a years worth of chemo. 

And of course, all of this could change drastically depending on the results of my PET scan on the 28th, which I suppose is to say:

In cancer and its treatment and its outcomes, certainties do not exist, save for one:

without treatment, you don't stand a chance. 

So even if I don't feel like it at the moment, I'm lucky to be doing more chemo. 

I'm lucky that treatment options exist for me and I'm phenomenally fortunate that at the moment, the prescription is a preventative measure. 

Every time I'm in Ann Arbor, I see people who I know would love to trade places with me. 

So I know I'm being selfish. 

I'm in a good place. 

Life is good. I'm feeling better. I'm getting out and about. 

I'm back in the gym, attempting to resemble a human, rather than a tube of play dough.

Less that--more this:

I'm doing well. Chemo, and the thought of it, just sucks. 

The mental grind got to me. It happens. It has to, this shit is heavy. 

I'd like to say I "win" every time I think about all of this, but that would be a lie.

I'll be ready next week, and the reason why is simple:

What other choice do I have?

Bring on the drugs.