During our first day in the Chemo Lounge, we met Ellen. She was on the tail end of her year of treatment—finishing the exact same Chemo Cocktail rounds CC was just starting. She gave us a general time-table on how CC would feel as the days after chemo progressed. So far she’s been spot on–
“Taking ulcer and antacid meds every 4 hours and my throat’s starting to feel funny but I feel GREAT! Day 10 it is!”
It’s a good thing too, because CC’s husband is flying home from Italy tonight.
I make myself scarce and go to a friend’s house for dinner and stay the night. I don’t stop worrying about CC. It’s like sending my child to their first over night camp. Or little girls slumber party. Or the first day they climb on that huge orange chariot without seat belts.
I text her: You ready to drive to LAX? Feeling ok?
CC: Yup plane late so getting dressed and curled hair…I actually look pretty. makes me sad.
I’m glad CC is feeling this good and is able to drive herself to the airport to greet the love of her life. They’ve just been married two years. And yet I realize I’ll have to talk to that sweet man so that starting with Chemo Round Two, he won’t expect to be living with the gorgeous, happy, eating, walking, driving, clear-headed woman with a head full of hair that he’ll encounter tonight. Nor the woman who’s facing her last fleeting moments of looking in the mirror and seeing her beautiful, vibrant, healthy self.
Now I’m sad too.