The chemo doctor said that the three-weeks-after-treatment is done will suck-the-worst. (I'm paraphrasing, of course.)
She was right. Actually, I would put the sucky focus on days 3-13 .. as the worst of the worst.
I could certainly elaborate but will spare you the gory details.
» Worst is Behind
Between you and me .. the thing I am really looking forward to ..
.. is that day when it occurs to me .. that this 'thing' ..
.. this cancer thing & especially the EFFECTS of its brutal treatment regimen .. is/are behind me.
I cannot say that today, tho. Because this 'thing' is all up in my ass, presently. Like a toothy croc munching on your butt.
But certainly, day #23 represents at least the beginning of the end.
And that alone brings a degree of comfort .. that I made it beyond treatment and survived.
In other words » the worst is now behind. (Tho, no .. I admit, it does not feel that way.)
(And it didnt, either. Nor was it later on in treatment.)
» Treatment in the 23-Day Old Rearview
Two days after treatment ended, my chemo doctor examined me and said, "Well, I must say .. for having JUST finished treatment .. you look fantastic."
(Tho no, I confess I hardly felt fantastic. Closer to Frankenstein than fantastic. Much closer.)
That was the day she gave me a big hug. "Completion hug," she said with arms wide.
» Hardest Thing You'll Ever Do
While I was waiting recently to see the chemo doctor .. the nurse for the radiation doctor came out and saw me. She came over and sat down and we chatted for 10 minutes .. there in the big waiting room.
She has seen me violently shaking and projectile-vomiting, during my 2nd clinical trial .. so our level of familiarity goes beyond the usual niceties of social grace.
It's interesting how we can develop these mini relationships with people that feel surprisingly intimate ..
<ignore this intentional body-text marker>