Days go by and all I think about is no more chemo. Having my life back. Waking up and feeling good and full of energy. Today was my 12th treatment, I knew going in that it wasn't my last until after the results from the CT scan I have next Monday come back. But I sure had hope. There was an undeniable part of me that wanted to believe today was the last. I had already planned out the next month, what I was going to eat to detox my body of the chemo, how I was going to workout to start rebuilding my strength. At the very end of treatment today my doctor came by to talk to me, I communicated my want and desire for this to be the end. He then said we better go talk privately-which is never good. Once we were in an office he started the long explanation of why more chemo is often needed, accompanied with diagrams on a dry erase board. At the end I looked at him and said "So what your telling me is I have to do 2 more months of chemo, right?" Poor guy, I was the one crying but I think he felt worse. Adjusting to change always sucks. Just before I started writing this blog entry I was reading my e-mail, one message was a joke about a donkey stuck in a well. The farmer didn't know how to get the donkey out and being that the donkey was old and the well hole needed to be filled anyway the farmer started to do what he believe he had to do- bury the donkey. To his surprise as the hole began to fill the donkey was simply shaking the dirt off and stepping up. Obviously the moral being I have to just keep on shaking the shit off my bald, tired head for another 2 months and keep moving in the right direction.