The final bell

 I haven't written since September because I have been busy enjoying life. What with getting my final infusions every three weeks, I found myself more able to manage daily chores, planning for classes I was teaching, and travelling. The need to write wasn't on my plate everyday. I actually took that as a good sign.

We closed camp down the end of September and early October. That's always a sad thing to do. Saying goodbye to friends that return to their winter homes and families signifies the end of summer. We hang on to each other for as long as we can, especially when the summer was as nice as this one.

Early October I took a trip to see my Midwest sisters. We sewed together, chattered about this and that, caught up on our shopping, and celebrated our birthdays. Aging isn't so bad when you have wonderful sisters that share their birthdays with you. We represent April, September and October; my youngest sister, Donna (below) is 10 years younger than me and from Indianapolis. My middle sister, Betty (above) is from Chicago and five years younger. They are both gems.

One thing we did was a Corn Maze. I've never done one before. It felt a little like getting through this cancer year. We could not easily apply our clues to find the right sign, but eventually we made our way through with lots of walking exercise and good humor. At the end, there was a celebratory sign congratulating us on completing the maze and surviving the challenge. Ta-dah!

Yesterday - on Halloween - I completed the cancer maze and rang the final bell signifying my completion of treatments. It was an appropriate day since it had been a scary year. My husband surprised me. That was overwhelming because I knew he had an optometrist appointment at the same time and might not be able to make it. Together we rang the bell; together we had done my cancer this year, supporting each other throughout. I was one lucky girl.

This morning my oldest son sent me a message that he posted about my bell ringing on Twitter to all his golfing friends. (He is the superintendent of a golf course.) The response was overwhelming as each friend applauded the victory that 'Mama Bear' had over cancer. Never knew I was Mama Bear before. I sure am now! Warms my heart.

So, I've completed treatments. Now I pray God and I will continue my healing as the cancer drugs gradually leave my system. I told one of the nurses yesterday how I was nervous now that I would be on my own, working hard to make sure this cancer never returns. She reassured me the feeling is normal, but she affirmed, "we have done our level best to make sure the cancer is totally gone. Live, she said, and enjoy every minute." I intend to do just that...and support others who need a hand to hold along their cancer path.

I need to add a P.S. to this post. Yesterday when I was driving home from ringing the bell, I had a phone call over my car phone. A dear friend of mine had showed up at the oncology clinic with balloons and cookies eight minutes after I left. She was so upset that she hadn't been able to surprise me. What she needs to hear is how much that gesture means to me, and those balloons and cookies were a wonderful way for us to thank the nurses at the clinic. They work so hard and give empathy always.  God worked through you, Jean, and I am eternally grateful.