Mike went to the dentist before his surgery yesterday. He came home in time to pace the floor for about 30 minutes before we had to leave for Same Day Surgery. This time there was none of the dread associated with the past several surgeries hanging in the pit of my belly, just an overwhelming desire for it to be over. And it is - over, but without the imagined fanfare and flourishes it is just over.
The port came out without a hitch, a large pressure bandage temporarily replaces the little bump on Mike's chest. The dressing gets to come off tonight. A clear tegaderm bandage will be placed over the wound for 5 days and then...that's it. My spot is back and cancer is over. Healing is not.
Yesterday, Mike said it was not over for him. He said it's not over until the side effects of chemo are gone. This was a surprise to me. I thought we'd made it through the last portage and we could put our packs down. As on all our trips I was looking forward to potato chips and Coke at the end but there are none. This is like getting to the last portage to find your car has been stolen and now you have to walk to town. It's a bit shocking. Terribly disappointing.
Now I'm wondering if I put some expectations out there, some unrealistic expectations. Could I have been foolish enough to really think it was ever going to be over? Can it ever really be over?
Peace and confusion,
Karen
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