Meltdown

I guess I was due for one at some point during all of this, and so last Thursday was my 'meltdown moment'.
I had gone in for a quick blood draw in the afternoon - they want to check my numbers every week to make sure my white blood cell, red blood cell, and platelet counts are in the 'happy' ranges.  Mine were so happy that I got a sticker on my lab report.  Those folks will try anything to keep the levity up in that place, so I have to admire them.
Nurse Tara has obviously been at this for some time. She is efficient, kind, compassionate, and knowledgeable.  She has a bit of time to chat, so I take advantage of that and ask some questions... 
I find out that even if this cancer goes away forever, there are still some residual effects that I will need to contend with for the rest of my life.  Because of the removal of the lymph nodes, I can never have blood draws or blood pressures taken from my right arm again.  I also learn that the 'cocktail' I'm on will have a cumulative effect....I may feel great now, but chances are good that I'll be feeling pretty lousy during the month of February.  And then she asks if I've been given a 'portable vomit bag' yet?  Um... no.  Really?  Off she goes and returns with a handy little bag and 3 masks that I'm to wear when I fly.  Reality is going to suck.
Later that night, it's just me and the dogs hanging out at the house.  Neil has a board meeting at the yacht club and won't be home until late.  I keep thinking about all that Nurse Tara said and I can feel myself getting down.  I open a lovely bottle of Syrah, curl up with Mambo on the couch, and treat myself to a small TV marathon of Downton Abbey episodes.  By the time Neil gets home at 10:30, I'm a sobbing, mildly inebriated mess.  So much for being Strong Like Bull.
The next morning, the sun comes up and my positive attitude returns.  "F" You Cancer.  You're not going to get me.
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