The Last Walk

Tomorrow I will take my last walk down the hallway into chemotherapy. The doors will open for the last time as I wait in the smaller waiting room to be called. The nurse will smile and call my name for the last time. Again, I will hold my husband’s hand and sigh as I choose my chair for the last time. It will be the final time I will say “thank you” to the nurses after they access my port and begin the poisonous drips. It will be the final time I will smile at patients that haven’t been as blessed as I am, knowing some of them will continue to be sick. It will be the final time these necessary poisons will be put into my body. And, I have a feeling I will shed tears as I walk out for the last time. Not because I will miss it, but because I will be so grateful and overwhelmingly blessed to be finished while so many others carry on down that road.

I am relieved to know that I won’t have to go there again after tomorrow, but I am nervous at how this round will impact my body. The last round was very difficult, but my energy level came back up and my blood tests were all normal last week. However, I am anxious. I am very tired today and it makes me wonder how that will affect me going into the weekend. I am praying this time will not be difficult like last time. I am praying for strength and energy, no nausea or illness and happiness and laughter. Also, there is another situation in my family that needs lots of prayers. God knows about this request; all I ask is that you pray for all of my family.

I will not be seeing another doctor until after my vacation at the end of the month. My family booked this vacation before I was diagnosed and I have been determined that I will still put my feet in the sand and enjoy my family. God is so good in His infinite wisdom; this break is coming at the perfect time. My doctor was ready to book my MRI for the week I will be gone. But, he acknowledged my need to get away and agreed waiting on the tests would help me relax by not having to make any surgery decisions while I was gone. My MRI will be scheduled for the first week in July and I will see my doctor and surgeon and then make a decision on surgery. I am assuming I will have surgery mid-July. Please pray for us as we travel and make this decision. I am still undecided and need God’s wisdom and knowledge for the right path for me and my family.

When I walk through those doors for the last time tomorrow, I will feel a sense of bitter sweetness. There is something ‘comforting’ knowing that you are treating this disease, so it will be hard to leave that safety behind. Yet, I have a feeling of happiness knowing I am blessed to be able to have such a short treatment time and leave it behind to move on to being healthy and cured. I know this isn’t the end of this journey. There are many paths I must walk before this is finished; I am just beginning another direction. One that will still have physical and emotional challenges after the surgery. I will continue to need prayers and support.

I am blessed beyond measure and more than I ever deserve. My life will never be the same. I will forever remember each step I have taken. I will remember the faces of those who have prayed, sent cards and gifts, sent messages and emails. I found that I am stronger than I ever thought possible. I am loved more than I ever knew. And, I’ve learned that letting go is possible. Beginning the process of letting my daughter spread her wings to prepare herself to fly from the nest has been extremely emotional. But, I could not have done it without traveling this road. I’ve always known how incredible and amazing my children were, but letting them figure it out for themselves is inspiring. It gives me strength to fight knowing I will see them graduate, marry and hold my grandchildren. I have beaten this disease and I AM a survivor.


  1. Christi says:

    You’ve been a survivor all along…. and while you’re being inspired by your children, others are being inspired by you.

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