Just as I was finishing up my IDCEAYWTPFriday post this morning, my oncologist’s office called to give me my next few appointment dates. I knew about the one on Oct. 12; the other doctor in the practice who saw me before my chemo last month told me the treatment on Oct. 12 would be my last. Apparently he assumed it was my last because it was the last one Dr. O had put in the system; however, that was incorrect.
Dr. O has scheduled me for treatments on Oct. 12 and Nov. 2 before I have a PET/CT scan on Nov. 16, and then two more treatments, the last one being on Dec. 14.
FOUR MORE TREATMENTS? WTF? This news was so disappointing. I’m more exhausted than usual and feel completely beat down since that phone call. The thing is, this was very likely the plan all along; there have been no tests run that would indicate a need to continue chemotherapy any longer than Dr. O originally prescribed. I think I was simply given incorrect info from the other doctor, and I had been hanging on his words because I liked the way they sounded: “you’re almost done!”
Sure, I can find a bright side to it, but please excuse me if I don’t do it right now. I’m angry and frustrated and so unbelievably tired of fighting cancer. By the time I have my last (“last”—we’ll see!) treatment on Dec. 14, it will have been more than an entire year of being on chemotherapy. I’m so done. I’m so not happy about this.
Give me some time, and I’ll find a way to joke about four more treatments. It may take a while, though; I’m still pretty grouchy about it. I went out with the girls tonight, and that definitely helped. I love my girls.