I almost didn’t write this post. The information hasn’t really sunk in yet.
Today in my treatment session, I got an amazing surprise.
I was due to finish in mid-June, and had two more appointments booked.
But the wonderful nurse who was looking after me checked their system.
They had counted wrong. The next time I come is my last treatment session.
I almost started crying. I was so happy and excited, but also in shock.
It has been such a long road to make it to this point, and a bit of a surreal experience to be finished in the midst of a pandemic.
I had wanted to have a big party bringing together all the amazing people who have been part of this journey. Obviously that isn’t a possibility now. I’ll need to find another way to say thank you to the incredible people who loved and supported me – and another to create a real sense of celebration that I’m still here!
When my birthday came this year, it felt a bit in the shadow of this milestone. This was the moment I was waiting to celebrate. And now it’s almost here – sooner than I had expected.
I wanted to make big plans of elaborate thank you presents – none of that is probably reasonable with the time frame I’m working under, especially with how unbelievably full quarantine days are trying to work and look after a little one.
But oh my goodness, the gratitude just fills my heart.
I keep catching myself, giving reminders that there is still a road ahead. At least two more surgeries, increased hormone therapy that will span the next decade, and the strange process of putting together a ‘normal’ life in a world that has turned upside down.
The joy and relief is so profound, I almost can’t process it.
Maybe it will feel more real in the morning. Or maybe I’ll find myself thinking it through in the wee small hours when I should be sleeping. But at least this insomnia will be tinged with excitement – like a little kid waiting for Santa Claus to come.