This post is part of my Cancer & Healing journal, an archive of the updates I wrote while going through treatment for Stage III rectal cancer. These entries reflect what I knew and felt at the time.

Chemo has officially turned my social calendar into:

Home. Treatment. Labs. Repeat.

And honestly? That’s on purpose.

Between chemo fatigue, the lingering effects of radiation and a gut that likes to keep me guessing, staying close to home has been the smartest move.

Healing isn’t glamorous.

It’s quiet.

It’s boring.

It involves pajamas and knowing exactly where the nearest bathroom is at all times.

Monday is Session 6.

After that, I’ll have two left.

The finish line is finally in sight, and I am very ready to be done with chemotherapy, take a little breather and get to scans.

This has been, hands down, the hardest thing I’ve ever done.

No toxic positivity here.

But I’m still standing.

Still hanging on.

Still moving forward, one treatment at a time.

Thank you for the prayers, the check ins and the love.

It’s carrying me more than you know.

Looking Back

By Session 5, cancer treatment had made my world very small.

Home.

The cancer center.

The lab.

Occasionally work when my body and brain cooperated.

Then back home.

There’s a strange monotony to long cancer treatment that doesn’t get talked about as much as the dramatic parts.

Most of it isn’t dramatic.

It’s repetitive.

You wait for appointments. You get blood drawn. You get treatment. You feel terrible. You recover enough to start feeling vaguely human. Then you look at the calendar and realize it’s almost time to go back.

Meanwhile, normal life keeps happening somewhere beyond your front door.

I think that’s what I meant when I wrote:

Healing isn’t glamorous. It’s quiet. It’s boring.

I still think that’s true.

Sometimes healing looks like a triumphant milestone.

Sometimes it looks like pajamas at two in the afternoon and absolutely nowhere you need to be.

And by February, I had stopped expecting myself to make cancer treatment look inspirational.

It was hard.

I was tired.

I wanted it to be over.

All of those things could be true while I was also grateful, hopeful and determined to keep going.

No toxic positivity required.

Three treatments remained.

I didn’t need to conquer all three that day.

I just needed to show up for Session 6.