Homies

So here we are. Round 6. I honestly feel like my whole summer was a blur. It is hard to believe that my double mastectomy was 6 months ago! So much has happened since then. As I near the end of my chemo treatments, it will feel nice to put a check mark on that part of the journey. Time has never moved so fucking slow. I now need to start gearing up for radiation and what that will entail. My poor body feels like the upside down from Stranger Things right now. It needs a break. I NEED A BREAK.

This past week chemo was a bit different as Steve was unfortunately out of town for a big sales meeting. He was feeling a little guilty about being away, but I assured him that I would be ok. After all, the offers I have received to come to chemo have been pretty off the hook. Guys, we aren’t sitting front row at the Drake concert. This is chemo. Are you sure you want to wait around in a waiting room for hours, and then sit there and watch me be hooked up to a bunch of machines? Then again, my crew is solid. I don’t mean to brag, but I am going to. As a matter of fact, this whole entire post is really going to be one giant “not so humble” brag.

I want to start by saying that these last few rounds of chemo have been way more difficult for me. Not so much physically, as more mentally. As I shared with y’all, I am anxious about taking the next step and losing my toxic safety net. On the other hand, I am exhausted, and sick of planning things around chemo and doctors appointments, and also just knowing I have to say no to dinner plans or concerts because I am not going to feel well that day. I know the routine by now, and it is exhausting. Meanwhile time seems to be standing still yet moving at the speed of sound.

So now that you have the backstory, here we are back to round 6, and my friend Susan would be accompanying me to chemo for the day. It was no question. She was coming. That was it. End of story. When you have good friends, there is never any question, they just do. So she did. Susan was “no questions asked” all day. She adopted the same silly chemo traditions that Steve and I do. Hip hop chemo videos. A trip to see the puppies in the window on 3rd Avenue. The vegetarian lunch spot on Lexington while we waited. She was even no judgement when I kept adding food to my Seamless cart after treatment, because steroids make you “last night on Earth” hungry. I mean, even in my drunkest days, I don’t think I have ever ordered that much.

She poured Gatorade in a wine glass for me, because that’s what friends do. We watched 90’s pop videos on You Tube and laughed and danced around my living room for hours. I honestly have to say, chemo day was actually not that bad. It is amazing what your support system can help you through when they don't even realize it. That morning all I wanted to do was hide under my covers and not have to endure another weekend of bone pain and fatigue; and I ended up having a memorable night with a friend. One for the books, some might say.

So I guess this means I can do this. And to Susan I need you to know something. You may not always feel like you know what to say or do but I want you to know how wrong you are. You know exactly what to do. You did it and continue to do it. I love you. Always.