The doctor was wrong. I kinda figured this would be the case, but I had my hopes up to be the one who was wrong. How often can you say that? "Boy oh boy do I hope I'm wrong!" The pain seemed to settle in a bit later, so by noon yesterday, I still had hope. When I got home, though, I could tell it was getting worse and the football game was likely out of the question.
I took a pain pill and a nap, but when I woke up, it was even worse. One more football game missed. This morning, it's the worst it's ever been. This time is different, though. This time, I can chant "One more time. One more time. One more time." I'm almost done. This is the last time I have to feel this way. By Tuesday or Wednesday, the pain will subside and then I get a month off. A month of NO treatment of ANY kind.
After that month, radiation will likely start, but that'll be a cake-walk compared to this stupid Taxol. It may make me tired. Tired is something I can handle. That's why they make coffee, I think. Anyway, I'll know more about that plan on Monday. Kevin will pick me up and we'll go for a consult with the radiology oncologist. Then we'll know the plan.
For now, I'll sit right here. I hurt, but I know it's going to end soon. Somehow, that makes it better. I've showered and moved to the recliner, so I am among the living. This is likely the most activity I'll see today, though. One more time.