Recovery from round seven has so far been slower than usual. We're nine days in now and I'm still punking out in the evenings with a slight fever. I have the cough that never ends and although my teenage acne is subsiding, thanks to some recommended hydrocortisone cream to counter the allergic reaction, I haven't quite burst out singing to "I feel pretty" yet.
I have only one more round of this beast to go, but already I'm feeling a bit anxious about leaving it behind. To start with, it's giving cancer the biggest kick in the arse it's going to get before being cut out of me. I have a lovely aggressive type that likes to do its own thing in a big way, so the end of chemo feels to me like leaving the front of the store unattended for a few weeks. Stupid idea, right? Apparently chemo, like a good security guard, continues to mind your merchandise long after it ends, and as much as I like to say I have one more round left, I still get another three months of Herceptin pumped into me after round eight. Herceptin isn't great for one's heart, but it'll leave the rest of my body relatively intact (save for the cancer).
So radiation should begin sometime in mid-December, along with the three-week schedule of the Herceptin injection, then surgery in the new year (January? February?). It's the surgery part I'm beginning to obsess about again. My mind still changes daily about what the final surgery decision will be so I'm trying to get completely focused on ending chemo and spending the two months or so before surgery getting my body in the best shape it has ever been so recovery will be swift. Right now I'll assume that radiation will make me sore and tired, but that's it. And the day that I no longer dwell on freakin' side effects? Madre de dios. Let it come to me soon.