When I was receiving the chemo dose of taxol at the halfway point, my oncology nurse commented, “You’re at the top of the mountain!” Looking back on that, I can see now that she meant we were at the zenith, so to speak, of my chemotherapy regimen with taxol, and I could begin the countdown to the last one. Which is something to celebrate, even though I still had 6 more weeks to go, and nothing had changed about my situation at that moment.
At the time, I was thinking “Yay! All down hill from here!” Never having climbed to the top of a mountain, I of course knew nothing about what it actually might take to come down off the mountain. I was all about “Yes! We made it to the top!” Little did I consider that coming down the mountain is just as hard and treacherous as climbing up. Perhaps more treacherous, as you are moving in the same direction as gravity coming down, and your chances of falling on your ass increase as a result. Still, I’m no quitter, so I’ll just keep on truckin’ cause I sure do want to get off this freaking mountain. I didn’t want to climb it in the first place, but I got chased up here by that damn tumor, so it was climb or perish and here we are. Now I get to pick my way down, oh-so-carefully, and I already know I will not reach the bottom unscathed. I have quite a collection of bumps, bruises, and boo-boos already, and the big finale still to come.
Just when I learned to take certain things for granted, like putting on or taking off a shirt over my head.