9.06.2012

And Like That it was Over

Officially done.
I'm in a race to emotionally distance myself from the past 9 months of my life. I'm longing for the return of routine and normalcy that will somehow trick my mind and body into thinking this was all a dream. I'm almost two weeks out from treatment and have been putting off this blog post because I can barely stand to look at the photos without getting that wave of nausea that I so enjoy.

So perhaps I'm not racing fast enough into my new reality?

My last bag, being delivered to me like a newborn baby.
The photos were part of my documentation of this whole experience. Partly to remember and partly to enhance this blog. But on this last round they were mainly for the sake of Merrick. For him, the end would be real not just because we told him, but when he could see that my PICC line was gone. He needed tangible evidence that it was all going to be OK and he would get his mommy back.

That simply translates into a video taped the removal of my PICC line, which was neither painful, slow, gross or bloody. I'll refrain from posting it here lest you fall asleep watching its non-graphic removal. But should you want to see, I can always send it to you. It was very unceremonious and quick. Just like that, it was done. And that was all the proof Merrick needed.

Bye-bye my little noodles.
I was officially noodle-less and that meant I was all better. Hypothetically.

Because I had that panicked look of impending vomit on my face, my infusion nurse did not make me suffer through the traditional end-of-treatment bash in the infusion room that includes noise makers, jester hats, certificates and photos. I'm not even sure I said good-bye to her. She was always so perceptive. Either that or I always appeared to be on the verge of vomiting so she was always quick to let me escape that place without saying a word.

Noodle-less Mama.
Aside from a few thick files and a bag of medical supplies from my PICC that are waiting to be donated to the local SPCA, I've rid the house of everything that reminds me of where I've been all these months. I've thrown away PICC covers, bio hazard bags and chemo spill kits. I've put away nausea pills away in the medicine cabinet, which in and of itself was a relief.

I feel good. I feel normal. I can almost kinda sorta feel the tips of my fingers and my toes. Though there's disputed evidence of how long chemo likes to linger in your body, I'm going to assume the worst and help it along in its departure.

Soon to come are the detoxing body wraps, infrared saunas and the acupuncture.

Soon to come is my channeling of suppressed anger into the passion to help a cause because I CAN.

Soon to come is me building my body back and using my new found appreciation for wellness to help those that aren't and can't.

I think the best summary of the end is really a beginning for Merrick. On the night before I was to get disconnected from my pump and have the PICC line pulled out of my arm, Merrick prayed (in his weird little falsetto prayer voice) that "Mommy would not forget that she can finally go off the diving board with me." For him and his little world, so much of his summer fun was mared by the fact that I couldn't get my arm wet. Ocean swims and diving boards (and normal showers) were off limits.

This last weekend he finally got his wish. See little buddy, prayers do get answered. For him this solidified that Mommy really is back and she is all better. Now the fun can resume.

Jumping for JOY!

1 comment:

Carrie S. said...

This was such a moving post. I'm so happy for you to be done (let's pray forever!) Merrick has such a strong momma!