I started. I started again. But I still don’t know where to begin. Now it’s ending, and I don’t know how to conclude.
The treatment, at least, is ending. Kind of. There’ll be maintenance chemo for two years.
The thing with cancer, with the cancer I have, I am told, is that it never really ends. People who’ve had it tell me to be prepared for it to come back. And even if it does end, you don’t know for sure that it has ended. The prospect of its return continues to weigh.