I FINALLY GOT TO RING THE BELL!!

 Ding Dong the Chemo's Done! (to be read in the high-pitched voice of a Munchkin, preferably a member of the Lullaby League or the Lollipop Guild)

Only a week later than expected, I went in for my final Chemo infusion.  Mom went with me and, while it took the tech a few tries to find a cooperative vein for the IV, the visit went off without much of a hiccough.  As we were leaving the nurses clapped while I rang the brass bell anchored to the wall.  

To be honest, the bell had a slightly melancholy sound. Let's talk about bells for a moment.  I've never really thought about them before but bells are a symbol of change or transformation, aren't they? We ring bells in celebration on Christmas Day, for weddings, and we "ring in" the New Year.  Bells toll the passage of time from tiny wristwatches to intimidating clock towers. Town criers used to herald news with a bell as they carried important messages through the streets. Bells were put onto horse bridles pulling sleighs through the otherwise hushed landscapes of winter.  The solemn bong of a deep bell would mark the passing of a soul after a funeral. And let's not forget what Clarence taught us, "every time a bell rings an angel get's his wings."  

When I rang that bell last Tuesday I expected to feel a sense of accomplishment.  I expected to feel transformed or changed in some way.  I hate to say it, but I really didn't.  There's just too much of this journey left in front of me.  Don't get me wrong, I'm happy the chemo is at an end.  I'm looking forward to my tastebuds returning to normal.  I can't wait for my hair to grow back! I'd love for the Neuropathy to fade!!  But I'm having a hard time getting excited about all of that when all I can do is think about my mastectomy in two weeks.  It looms over me like a final exam I haven't studied for -- only so much worse.  I definitely didn't worry this much about my knee surgery 17 years ago.  In fact, I remember being rather cavalier about the whole thing.  This is absolutely nothing like that experience.  I keep thinking about being put to sleep and waking up in pain and missing this whole part of my body! I'm afraid I'm going to freak out when I wake up. I'm picturing myself hyperventilating or tearing at my IVs or screaming hysterically.  Those aren't behaviors I would normally associate with myself -- I'm generally pretty calm.  I generally throw around awkward dark humor.  I just can't see this outcome clearly.  It's all fuzzy on the horizon.