Last Day of Chemo: Dance With Me!

So, I'm just going to preface this video by saying, I know I look like a complete dork in it. The fact is, I woke up today - the morning of my last chemotherapy session - my LAST cycle of Taxol, after almost SIX MONTHS of port infusions that started with Adriamycin and Cytoxan the day before Christmas Eve (my second AC treatment was on my 35th birthday) - feeling like crap. You see, today marks the last of 16 cycles of three drugs that have been interrupted by gallbladder surgery, a serious depression, bronchitis, shingles, and countless other nightmares and disappointments along the way. Today marks the end of weeks of having to get shots in my arm three days in a row. The end of tasting metal in my mouth all day and never being able to do anything on Saturdays because I inexplicably fall asleep for four hours around noon. The end of not being able to travel or get ridiculously inebriated or be around sick children. I should have woken up ecstatic. When I finally got out of bed, I didn't feel like I was finally on the other side. I felt like I was still in the middle of a long, horrible, unrelenting journey, with even more disappointments ahead of me. I looked in the mirror and saw lashless lids, swollen tear ducts and eyes clogged with gunky sleep goo, three desperate eyebrow hairs clinging to my brow above them, and big sleep-deprived bags beneath them. Someone had just offered me nearly $200,000 less than my house is worth - not even enough to cover my mortgage - and I had spent all night hating myself for buying it and crying for everything I've lost in the last year. Why did I buy a house in Kaua'i? I must be a moron. No wonder I got cancer, I thought. Wiping my tears, though, I decided I would be DAMNED if I went to my last chemo cycle feeling crappy. I put on a pretty dress, my sassy wig, a pair of equally sassy pink kitten heels and quickly made an upbeat On-The-Go playlist on my iPhone to listen to in the car on the way to Oakland. I had scones and homemade Mexican hot chocolate and strawberry jam with my lovely friend Heather for breakfast, put on my makeup at her house, and picked up my sister at BART so we could go to the hospital together. By the time my treatment was over, I was home and feeling miles better. I promise that you will laugh when you watch this video. At me. And that's OK. I mean, I've already put a video of me bald in my bathrobe on the Internet. There's really not much you can be embarrassed about after that. If you are struggling with the emotional rollercoaster that fighting cancer puts you through, though, I invite you to join me in a little happy dance for yourself, to celebrate that future day when YOUR chemo will be over (YES, it does end!). I'm not lying when I say Beyonce helped me get through all this. Sometimes, cranking up "Single Ladies" and dancing in my living room was the only thing that made me feel better when everything was falling apart. For four minutes, I could imagine her music was drowning my cancer cells in powerful, healing, life-affirming bass beats! So laugh away, kids. I find it's the best medicine. :)