Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea

This evening is my last night before my post-operative oncology consult. In other words, tomorrow they're going to tell me all the chemo details-- the what kind, how much and how long.

I recognize that without chemo I vastly reduce my chances of surviving my otherwise ideally-situated little cancer. My tumor is small, it was caught early, it has not spread; BUT if I don't do chemo, it could still get me, and comparatively quickly, at that. My tumor was aggressive. Not the sort of thing to turn your back on.

But in this comparatively pleasant period between my surgery and tomorrow, while physically uncomfortable in a couple of fairly minor ways-- at least in relation to the big picture -- I have been enjoying the preparations.

I have ogled wigs. I have sought out recommended products for various common chemo problems. (Although MORE TIPS are ALWAYS welcome.) I have even, as I mentioned, arranged to get a copy of War and Peace to read with my friend, John. And, most importantly, we have purchased a bigger, better Tivo! (okay, not strictly chemo-related, but the cause of much joy in the household nonetheless)

But tomorrow some of this will change. Chemo will become a reality. My very nice, well-respected oncology doctor will look me in the face and discuss what kind of poison he recommends putting in my body.

I remember my mom in chemo. I remember the stricken look on my dad's face. I remember a lot of vomiting.

Yes, this was ten years ago and she had colon cancer, not breast cancer. Her cancer was not caught early and mine was. The meds for nausea are a lot better now than they were then. She died within a year of diagnosis, and I probably won't.

But these are the bags I've packed to take with me on my trip through chemotherapy. I have to confess to being truly afraid of that first step on the path.

I trust that when chemo and my reaction to it becomes more of a known quantity, the horror will subside. It'll be just one more thing to deal with, to get through on my way to dancing with N.E.D.* Then I will deal with it as I deal with everything-- with some smarta$ remark on my lips. But tonight I'm scared.

Wish me bon voyage, y'all.

_________
*N.E.D. = no evidence of disease