"Almost Done Connie"

I received it in the mail. Purple construction paper with a big red star: Almost Done Connie. Accompanied by photos of friends from Montana, the poster hangs on my fridge. Today I read those words and I know I am almost done.

It is not without an element of sadness. I've grown attached to my nurses, my technicians, my new friends.

I will miss Terry. Deb. Mike. Jennifer. Kathy. Alan. Carry. Gale. Nina. I will miss going to the cancer center. Strange, but true. I will miss having my blood drawn. I'll miss chemo, well not the part where I get sick, but the other part -- talking to Nina, using the IV pole like a skateboard, seeing if it is truly possible to pee every 15 minutes while receiving main-line saline. I won't get the Sarge and Lewis daily updates. I didn't have enough time to talk Mike into seeing the largest tree made solely of poinsettias. I won't see Carry's golden retriever. I won't get to see which pair of cool shoes Terry is wearing or talk to her about all the wonderful things we've talked about. I won't leave radiation waving goodbye to Jennifer, Kathy, and Alan everyday. I may never have another opportunity to sing wearing blue hair in the chemo room. (The Taxotere made me do it!)

In just a few days I'm set free. I'm well.