Chemo Chronicles V4

Oh my gosh, oh my gosh you guys—guess who drew the short straw again? 🙋‍♀️ Yep, me.

But hold on—this time the universe threw me a bone.

• My port gave up blood without a single hissy fit.
• My numbers came back high enough to keep going.
• And get this: two hours. That’s it. TWO HOURS of chemo.

I don’t know if it was my lucky shirt, or maybe channeling my mom calling out “Big Money!” before she rolled the dice at the kitchen table. But somehow, today the chemo room was a blink instead of a marathon.

The nurses strapped a new little gadget onto my arm—like some weird futuristic bracelet—that’s set to shoot “life juice” into my veins tomorrow. Supposedly, it’ll beef up my white counts. Honestly, it feels a little sci-fi, but hey, if it works, I’m in.

The chemo room itself was pretty calm today—no drama, no chaos. To my left, a husband stayed by his wife’s side the whole time. Sweet as pie, and a good reminder that not all superheroes wear capes—sometimes they sit quietly in vinyl chairs.

And then there was the new lady in Lookout Chair #11. Let me tell you, she showed up like it was Fashion Week. Gorgeous dress, killer high heels that would’ve sent me face-planting in under thirty seconds. I loved it. She wasn’t here to look sick—she was here to shine. And it worked.

No chemo next week, which means I get a break from the chair and a chance to rest up for whatever adventures are waiting. (Spoiler: probably not heels that high. Ever.)