When a tree falls in the forest…
That’s how it felt yesterday as I went through my final (and I say that with ALL conviction and belief) chemo treatment at the Mayo. I felt apprehension, disconnection. Discombobulation, even. I was blessed that H took the day off to be by my side for this closure of the circle because I felt like I was sleep-walking through a foggy, misty nightmare. Was it supposed to be like this? Shouldn’t I be skipping down the hallways, tossing rose petals behind me as I made this last exit from that dreaded treatment room full of “bays” of chemo chairs and IV trees? Instead, with tears welling and emotions roiling, I struggled to maintain some form of composure to quell the crazy, contradictory feelings of joy, fear, jubilation, apprehension. My comfort zone for the last year was suddenly being ripped from my grasp. Yea to that, I know, intellectually. Even the chemo nurses assured me that my emotional reaction was far more typical than not. I assured H that this would be a much more joyous occasion in retrospect.
Much love to the wonderful nurses who cared for me so compassionately this past year, and who celebrated my departure with genuine joy and real tears. Not to mention bubbles and music. As they sang to me, I watched the woman in the next bay observe the scene with envy and fear. Yesterday was her first chemo treatment. I remember when I was that woman, sitting in my chair with hair and frightening expectations, and it makes it easier to celebrate my journey, while blessing hers, and all those facing this marathon for life. Blessings, love and light to all.
Nov. 14, 2013
Judy Richter 