Hold the Mayo

     Some of you knew about my appointment scheduled for Friday for a 2nd opinion from a prestigious medical facility about radiation treatment.  Sadly, a series of unfortunate events ended up making this Friday's appointment disappear from their books; as a result, I will not get my 2nd opinion until March 24.  I was hoping to have my mind all made up/put at ease on Friday--I would then be able to go into Round 6 mentally prepared for what was or wasn't coming a month later.
     Patience is a virtue.  I'm working on it.
     Having made the trip this week to said medical complex, all I can say is that cancer is certainly a growth market--those were some swank digs, I must say!  Business must be booming!
     I'm enjoying being able to drive, although not enjoying the fatigue that comes with running a series of simple errands. I know, Wendy Whiner all the time.  Boo hoo, I'm so tired!  It's annoying, isn't it?  I annoy myself.  But I'm trying to make the most of this week and do a few things that I know I won't be up to after Thursday--like trying to dig some big holes and put in some new plants in the yard.  I have a friend flying in for a quick visit right before Round 6, so that will be lots of fun.  And my mom is flying in to be here to help with this last bout of poison recovery.  I am so lucky!
     I've warned my mom that, should she come along to pick me up from chemo on Thursday, she will be witness to the Bell Ringing Ceremony.  Okay, I make it sound like a big, formal deal.  I've only seen it once:  One of the nurses makes an announcement that John or Jane Doe has finished their last round of chemo.  And then John or Jane gets to clang this big honkin' bell mounted on the wall.  And everybody claps.  
     But here's the thing:  When I was witness to the bell ritual, after Jane's announcement, she rang the bell.  Once.  Clong.  That was it.  And I thought man, when I finally get to ring that bell I'm going to ring that sucker off the wall!  Maybe Jane didn't want to disturb people, or she was uncomfortable having attention directed her way.  But I'm just going to have to apologize in advance to all the snoozy people--heck, I'll tell folks to cover their ears. 
      Because you don't get anything for finishing chemo other than that ridiculous bell. That, and knowing you can walk out the door and not be marking your future off in 21-day increments.  You can actually think a little farther out for a change.
     So, ladies and gentlemen, it's The Final Countdown (cue the cheesy rock anthem).  I couldn't have made it this far without you.