The house is quiet on this early Sunday morning as I write this last blog before my first chemotherapy appointment tomorrow. The chemotherapy infusions that begin tomorrow morning will provide me with a second chance to live.

I don’t take this second gift of life lightly.

For now, I am cancer-free. However, the reality of living with cancer has finally set in with the onset of chemo as phase two of ridding my body of cancer.

The chemotherapy, radiation, and hormonal therapy to follow are insurance markers to prevent cancer recurrence. These treatments are all temporary phases of my life that I will have to go through to get better, and hopefully stay cancer-free. Twelve to 18 months from now, if all goes well, my body should return to the way what it was before my diagnosis.

As positive as I have been, and as calm as I’ve tried to be, knowing that chemo starts tomorrow has elevated my anxiety to the highest level I have experienced on this cancer journey. The mastectomy and cellulitis infection that followed surgery were easy compared to what is to come these next few months.

Living with a cancer diagnosis reminds me once again that life is precious. Despite one’s best efforts to minimize the risk of illness in proper diet, healthy weight, and exercise, one has little control over contracting cancer. Being healthy and staying well are gifts I took for granted prior to getting sick.

In this cancer journey, I have wanted to stay calm in the time leading up to chemo, but I can’t—especially in these last few final hours. More now than ever, I have to stay busy to keep my mind off cancer thoughts. I’m restless and not sleeping well.

I want to get on with the chemo treatments, but I dread them at the same time. Chemo hasn’t begun, and already I want it to be over with.

This is the first time in the cancer journey that I feel fear of the future and what is to come. I have to relinquish control, which is a life-changing behavior for me. I don’t deal well with the unknown, even though I have done all I can to prepare for cancer treatment mentally, physically, emotionally, and spiritually.

It’s hard to articulate what I’m going through in living with cancer in all aspects of my being. My friends who are cancer survivors can relate to the experience, and help to ground me when I’m feeling alone in this journey. I’m grateful to all of them for their understanding and empathy in being present to me through this cancer experience in ways that no others can.

They have each have walked into cancer’s dark tunnel of the unknown and made it through to the other side where light once again appeared. They are well, and their survivors’ outlook anchors and inspires me daily. It is from them that I have learned to live with cancer in gaining strength, courage, and determination to fight this life-threatening disease.

In spending time this past week with a dear friend over lunch, she framed the chemo experience for me in a way I hadn’t thought of. She’s journeyed with another friend of hers whose sister is currently in treatment for breast cancer. She reminded me “chemo is your friend.” It will be my mantra on days when I don’t feel well.

These past two weeks have felt like I’ve been at work again as each day has been occupied with a multitude of commitments. I have numerous pre-chemo medical appointments, and meetings for final arrangements for our daughter’s wedding. By design, I have spent time with friends over lunches and coffees before I become housebound to minimize the risk of infection with lowered blood counts with chemotherapy.

As a family outing, we managed to fit in the one and only baseball game I could see this summer. It was a fun distraction on a beautiful warm summer’s night. The home team lost, but the fresh lemonade and popcorn helped to round out the game night fun.

It has been an emotionally trying time for me these past few weeks. I have juggled medical appointments that have made me feel sad and anxious, while finalizing wedding plans that have made me feel happy. I have bounced from one extreme to the other between the contrasting appointments. I don’t feel well-prepared for either situation. I wrestle with coping with cancer, while being frustrated in not being well enough to be fully present to celebrate a big day in our daughter’s life three weeks from today.

Then there are the current and soon-to-come physical reminders that the cancer diagnosis is very real. I had day surgery to implant a port and central vein line in my chest and jugular vein. Touching the device is a creepy sensation; it’s physically and psychologically uncomfortable housing this implant inside my body and makes it difficult to sleep.

The port and IV line is a subtle physical reminder of cancer each time I look in a mirror and see them project through my skin. The port and IV “life-saving line” is the hub through which the chemo cocktail drugs will flow throughout my body. They will also serve as the location from which lab technicians will draw blood regularly to monitor my blood cell counts for chemotherapy to continue.

Other physical prep has included a wig fitting and two wig styling appointments. My hair had to be shaved down to my scalp to properly fit the wig. I now feel like “GI Jane” of the army. Going through the experience was eased knowing that Jen, my hairstylist of 15 years, was alongside me in making sure the end result was complimentary to my skin color and facial features.

Although it’s been fun to play with wigs and taking on a new hair persona, buying a wig and the reality of knowing why I need one saddens me. I can envision what I’ll look like in two weeks when I’m bald, except for the hollowed-out eyes and pallor that will come with chemo as it cumulatively collects in my body.

The breast prosthetic appointment was life changing, but was handled with much care and sensitivity by my fitters. I came home with a “boob in a box” and special bras to wear with it. When I am well and strong enough, I will return to the store for a swim prosthetic so that I can resume my aquasize classes as part of my fitness to fight cancer. (As a 20-year aquafit participant, my goal is to one day support and encourage other breast cancer survivors in maintaining their fitness by teaching them in specialized weekly aquasize classes).

In addition to these more noticeable physical changes, I had to buy artificial eyebrows and eyelashes for wedding photos, and had to hunt down organic body products to minimize dry skin and chemical contacts with chemo, and prevent enamel erosion of my teeth.

With both the wig and breast prosthetics, I now have to learn and practice new regimes in skin care and handling of my “replacement parts” to prevent deterioration from wear. There are also new routines to develop in oral hygiene to prevent chemotherapy sores in the mouth and throat, and new practices for scalp and skin care with chemo complications.

As I juggled the needs to attend to physical body changes, I also had complete disability claims paperwork to be away from work on sick leave. There is a waiting period of 120 days for activation. My oncology social worker helped me to fill out the forms, while my medical oncologist filled out the doctor’s reports and wrote an updated medical leave of absence letter for my employer and disability insurance insurer so that my benefits can be commence in November.

Today, I will spend my hours staying productively busy. My family will help with housework in scouring the house up and down to clean it for chemo. We will put things away that we temporarily don’t need, and make space to replace them with things I need to have nearby as I go through chemo.

The puttering and cleaning will be useful and therapeutic in helping me to relax in the countdown to chemo. By the end of the day, I should be exhausted so that I can plop down to sleep without effort and wake up to greet the day with chemo starting at 10:30 tomorrow morning.

The first few days of chemo are expected to take a physical toll as my body adjusts to the treatment. In my absence, my daughter will be a guest blogger to let everyone know how I’m managing with the chemo. When I can, I will return to write more blogs to share my cancer travels as you continue to walk with me in my cancer journey.

I'm on the road to recovery and enter the second phase of my cancer treatment with Strength, Courage, and Determination.