Wishes, Wishes, Wishes for Chemo

My previous entry was a false start of sorts. My chemotherapy was mistakenly stopped after the fourth cycle, but my oncologist made an error when he did. So I didn't stop my chemo treatments in October, but I will this coming Friday---unless my white blood cell count is too low to have a treatment this week. That hasn't happened and I don't think it will, so I'm certain that this Friday will be my 12th and final chemo treatment.

Below is a list of the wishes I had in my head, back in early June, before I began my treatments. I don't think my hair will grow back as an afro, unfortunately, but it seems timely to list and share what my wishes were then, now that it's finally ending:


•It’s to be expected that chemo will make my hair fall out. But, I’ve read and heard that it might grow back differently—curly when it was straight, coarse when it was smooth, even a different color (say, red because of Doxorubicin, which looks like dark Kool Aid and will make my pee pinkish, right after chemo). I want it to fall off like a tree’s leaves in autumn so it can grow back as the mightiest afro ever! My lifelong dream of having hair like Jimi Hendrix or Sly Stone would come true—and I would feel like the hottest person I could possibly be!

•That it doesn’t make me too sick and weak and vomity and that it really sticks it to that mean Mr. Hodgkins (what a bad fellow he is!).

•That it doesn’t come between me and Blanca being happy together.

•That it can get rid of Mr. Hodgkins so that Blanquita can finally be with me when I’m not actually sick.

•That it doesn’t make me impotent so that someday, if I want to, I can have kids with someone who loves me (because I’d like to have kids who I can pervert with my ways!).

•That it doesn’t prevent me from riding my bicycle, from creating the joy I get when I ride around my neighborhood, from feeling the exhilaration I feel when I ride down a steep hill in San Francisco (weeeeeeeeee!!!!!!), from feeling the awe and contentment I get when I bicycle beneath the skyscrapers downtown, or when I’m out in nature, gawking at the redwoods, the tranquil beauty around me.

•That it will test me, like never before, and help me become the strongest person I can ever be.

•That it doesn’t make me too sick and weak to stop me from going to school in the fall, like my oncologist said it would. Please. I think that would break my heart because being at school, talking about writing, talking about good stories, about what I love with my classmates and professors who I care about makes me feel excited and happy like I must have felt when my mom dropped me off at preschool and kindergarten.

•That it gets rid of Mr. Hodgkins forever and ever so that I can be with my parents and my sisters for as long as I possibly can.