20 days until my last chemo treatment. 41 until my first surgery.
306 pills on my counter, waiting to be taken.
And only 3 more shots.
(There were 2 praying mantis' in my yard yesterday and 1 humming bird but that's neither here nor there)
160 miles left to drive back and forth to the hospital
110,000 hairs to grow back on my head (my legs can skip this part if they want)
144 hours of quarantine with no immune system (how many sani-wipes is that?)
WAY too much time left to watch t.v. I've gone from 2 hrs. a week to over 30. (Don't watch PBS fund-raisers on pain-killers...you'll be way too happy to contribute. They had me at John Denver. He filled up my senses, ya' know. Nevermind. Let's move on....
4 wigs, just waiting to be washed, styled and retired.
5 pounds just waiting to be lost (yes, you actually gain 5-10% of your body weight with breast cancer..cancer really stinketh).
1,000,000 reasons to thank our parents for everything they've done, 0 ways that will ever be adequate enough.
What does it all add up to? One lucky me. I realize, regardless of how my countdown shapes up, or down, not all people suffering get a count down, or even have an end in sight, they just don't know when their night will end, if ever. I'm the lucky one here. And I'm counting! (now all I need is a good paper chain)