Two more miles

When my sister and I were little, we used to take long road trips from where we lived in Boise to visit family in Oregon. My sister was a baby and, as legend goes, would hold it together until we were just outside of our destination. Necessity being the mother of invention, my genius parents invented the “Two More Miles” song. To call it a song is probably a bit generous, as basically it consisted of chanting “Two. More. Mi-les. Two. More. Mi-les” over and over again.

I mean this with all sincerity: the Two More Miles song was my favorite part of any car trip.

Of course, I was the big sister then, and not the parent. I have a whole new perspective on the Two More Miles song now. For instance, I always thought that we waited until we had exactly two more miles to go. Now as a parent, I suspect the song could have easily started anywhere past the halfway point.

So, my sister reminded me of the Two More Miles song a few days ago. I’m at Two More Treat-ments. And I find myself identifying most with my sister back then. I’m so close to the end of chemo. I’m so very ready to be done. We’ve come so very far and yet, I’m so very ready to lose my shit.

The side effects are definitely accumulating. And though I have some truly bizarre side effects that I can only attribute to the chemo, the most annoying of all are the persistent headaches.

I’ve mentioned them in my appointments for the last few weeks, which happened to be with two different oncologists. Without even prompting, they both said, “Here’s why I think these headaches are a side effect of the chemo and why I don’t believe these headaches are related to your cancer.” They both know that’s exactly what I need to hear.

I wonder if I will ever have a “normal” ache or pain ever again - one that I simply take some Advil and dismiss as the price of getting older. I doubt it. I’ve read from a lot of cancer survivors that this is one of the things you learn to live with.

What strange questions to have to get used to for the rest of my life: Has the cancer spread? Has the cancer returned? I’ve said before, I don’t trust statistics anymore. Won’t ever again.

The real trick is figuring out how to find co-existence with these questions, but not let them run my life. And just because I figure out how to co-exist with the possibility of cancer returning some day, doesn’t mean I’m inviting it into my life.

Quite a few weeks ago, I was getting ready for a shower and discovered what looked like a growth on the other non-affected side. I had an immediate freak out. How in the hell did I not I see it before? What on earth does this mean? It’s not a typical symptom of breast cancer, so what in the hell? Seriously, what in the hell??

Then the “growth” fell off.

Turns out, it was pumpkin bread that had fallen in to my bra.

So, yeah. That weird ache/pain/growth could be a sign that cancer is coming back. It could also be pumpkin bread in my bra.

Two more treatments.

Two more miles.