Stick a Fork in Me. I'm Done.

This week a Sister started chemo.  Way to go Jane Marie.  You did it!  Don't mess with Texas.
This week a Sister finished 20 weeks of chemo.  Way to go TMackQ! For all her hard hard work, her Hubby is taking her to Paris!  I think that should be a required chemo protocol.

They called me with my pre-op instructions today, for my hysterical-oscopy on Monday morning.  They need me at the hospital at 5 am (can't I just come in at Midnight and sleep over?) to get me ready for the procedure, you know, the usual, some lab work, meet the anesthesiologist, blow up my uterus like a balloon, blah blah blah.

Another little party, just for me.  Hello everyone, good morning, this is my Muffy, and way way way up here, this is my uterus Gladys.  Please be nice to her, I grew two little baby boys in here and I'm kind of fond of her.

I have to laugh at myself now, so upset and angry about this whole latest wrinkle.  "Don't you people understand?  I am done.  I have jumped through all the hoops, I have done everything you asked of me, and completed the iron girl triathlon of chemo, mastectomy and radiation.  What do you mean I'm not done?"

As one Sister said "You already gave your boobs, now they want your package?"  Gosh that made me laugh.

Excuse me Writergirl, she says talking to self, let us remind you how this cancer thing works from here on out.

After a cancer diagnosis, there is no such concept as "Done."  You can pretty much count on that for the rest of your life, every little thing, any little thing that seems atypical is going to be scrutinized and examined like an IRS audit, of your body!

I understand.  It's just not easy being on the receiving end of that.

It helps though, to have little pansy faces greet me.  Spring.  Spring.  Winter is almost over.