Nobody asked me but.. Cancer

Final chemo day

We tried our best to sleep well the night before. I don't think we slept well at all, both tossing about. Words unspoken between my teenager daughter and I were of fear and the unknown. We were at the end of our battle with chemotherapy, but what did the next steps look like? I remember the last chemo day as if it were yesterday. I remember what we were wearing. Bean had a "straight out of chemo" t-shirt on that was black with white lettering. I had a black t-shirt on that said " I love someone who is a fighting Hodgkin Lymphoma warrior." We both had stretch comfy shorts on as it was a hot summer August day. We had made fancy rice krispies treats for the nurses to say thank you. Before we registered; we passed "the bell." If you are unfamiliar; you ring the bell to signify having completed treatment. Low and behold in a few short hours, my girl would have her turn. So we headed back to the child cancer center; with words under our breath spoken or not that this would be the last chemotherapy treatment. It was the final chemical match against the Bastard. We didn't get our comfortable room we were used to. The day had a strange feel to it, nonetheless it carried on. Everything went according to plan and we were ready to leave. I still remember how emotional I felt walking down the hall with my child's team exiting the child cancer center; to ring the bell. I almost broke down in years of joy. Stop, you have to hold it together I thought. Pushing my child in the wheelchair that day was so powerful, to this day I cannot explain it. Maybe it was exhilarating? Perhaps with a comforting peace to follow. My girl rang that bell, I was so happy my Bean finished treatment. My emotions were legit all over the place. Kind of like when someone mails you a birthday card and you open it, unaware confetti is going to fall out everywhere? Just like that. We videotaped it and took pictures. I know my child had a sense of pride and joy for what she had just endured. No child should ever have to deal with any of this, ever. My Bean talked to me when she felt like it little bits and pieces of her feelings as treatment went along. I know in her mind she doubted if she would ever make it to the end of treatment. But, she did and she won... cancer did not. I credit much of Bean's success to her Nana Kathy in Texas who had battled cancer and was also in remission. She could text her Nana anytime and that added support was great. Nana Kathy had gotten so frail from her journey, she passed away before Bean's last chemo. More unwritten and unspoken words? Nana Kathy, this last treatment is dedicated to you. We know you would have wanted our Bean to keep fighting, so she did. Keeping loving thoughts and memories close to her heart. Nana Kathy will forever be loved and missed. We know you helped Bean pass that chemo finish line. That last chemo was so bittersweet. It was a beautiful thing to know chemo was done. Now to rest at our amazing home away from home, before our drive home tomorrow. A place we stay nearby that her and I will forever cherish the friends we made along the journey. Managing the last time of feeling yuck for my girl before the trek home tomorrow.