Nothing much is up. After a second consecutive October of getting no sleep and having the DVR build up to frightening levels of to-be-watched television, the baseball playoffs are over, but this time the Royals WON. The Royals won the World Series! It's been a few days now and I'm still not over it. I keep watching Hosmer's slide into home in the bottom of the ninth on YouTube. At least I lived long enough to see that happen! World Champions!
Benjamin is tired of me making "at least I lived long enough to see _____" jokes and similar. I don't really think they are jokes, though, not completely. I still don't believe I'm done with having cancer. I believe it a little more than I used to, and I think I will continue to believe it more and more as time passes, but for now I haven't had a day yet where I believe it for the whole day.
I have six more Herceptin treatments, which doesn't sound like a lot but unfortunately they're every three weeks so that adds up to 112 more days before it's over. I like that I'm still getting an expensive drug pumped into my body, though (especially one that doesn't cause any side effects), and I like having the morning off work to read my book in a comfortable chair, so I don't mind too much. Ben gets to go with me to two of the remaining six, since he now works for the government and gets a million paid holidays. He's never been with me to a treatment before, so it will be nice for him to see what it's like. And to show off my handsome husband to the nurses.
My hair is quite something.
My head looks very much like my Grandma Dorothy's head, or at least it will in a few more weeks. Every week I take this overhead shot, and I keep expecting it to sort of start settling down, but each week I'm surprised how much it's changed in only seven days. I am really, really tired of discussing with coworkers how curly my hair is. It didn't used to be curly, did it? Isn't that weird how it's growing back curly? Oh no, not really, most times it grows back curly after chemo. Really! Why is that? WELL I DON'T KNOW CAN WE STOP TALKING ABOUT IT NOW.
Deep breath.
Really, though. It was better being bald. At least everyone was too shocked into silence to make me talk about it six hundred times a day. I really would be better off living alone with Ben and Papaya on an island in the North Atlantic. Except then I wouldn't have access to the Duke Cancer Center, I guess.
