Sometimes it amazes me that I can feel so bad and not be dying. It’s weird to think that feeling this way means I’m fighting the cancer that’s trying to kill me. You grow up thinking that medicine is supposed to make you feel better, not worse. It’s still funny to me that I was feeling my absolute best, and was in the best shape of my life, the day I found out I had cancer. Look at me now. What a joke.

It’s hard to believe I’ve made it through seven rounds of chemo. In January, this part of treatment felt so far away, and I was so scared. Now a week from today, I will finish number 8, and I will be done. Right now that feels really far away, even further than it did in January, and each day I feel worse than the last. Every day feels like a month. That’s how hard it has gotten to get through the days.

I’m scared that the side effects will linger, and I’ll feel bad for a long time. All I can do is hope for the best, I guess. I’m tired. I’m sick. I’m sad. But I can’t give in. I have to keep fighting the temptation to give into the depression that’s trying to beat me down.

I’m so close. I can do this. I will use all of my remaining strength to make it through this and reclaim my life. I can only hope my support system doesn’t fail me now, because while the treatment journey is almost over, it is going to take a long time to heal from this. Physically and emotionally.

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