Today I had my port removed. The procedure went really well, and I’m home now resting. But it definitely brought up memories that I hadn’t thought of in awhile.

It’s been exactly four weeks since my last chemo treatment and two weeks since my oncologist said the cancer is gone. Now it’s just a matter of trying to get back to some sort of normal.

On Monday of this week I had my labs and a CT. Then I met with my oncologist on Tuesday to get the results and his recommendation on what happens next. What was the size of a tennis ball (7 cm) is now the size of this quarter (2 cm), and what remains is most likely scar tissue.

Going into my third round of chemo, my lab showed that my white blood cell count was low. This is pretty common with chemotherapy and there’s a booster shot they give you to help your body produce more white blood cells, but it did mean that I felt even more tired and worn out than I usually do. Normally by the middle of the second week of a round I’m able to bounce back and start feeling like myself again, but it took a lot longer this last round.

I haven’t written a blog post in a while, because this past week has included some of my worst days… and some of my best days. After a week of day-after-day-after-day chemo treatments and with the steroids wearing off, the weekend after week 1 and the front part of week 2 pretty much just included me either lying in bed or reclining in my chair.

After a week of day-after-day-after-day chemo treatments and with the steroids wearing off, the weekend after week 1 and the front part of week 2 pretty much just included me either lying in bed or reclining in my chair. One of the side effects of chemotherapy is that it makes you unbelievably exhausted. Even just standing for more than five minutes was tough, and taking a shower was brutal.