When I was a kid I loved to make a grand entrance. It usually entailed me doing cartwheels, singing obnoxiously, jumping out of a closet, or re-enacting Bruce Lee’s Kung Fu moves with actual cutlery. Trust me when I tell you these shenanigans cost my parents a trip to the ER with me more than once. Well, yesterday I was so excited to have that last chemo that I was telling everyone about it, texting my besties and getting a little pre-celebration going. I even high-fived the hospital parking attendant on my way in the door. Apparently I have grown up zero percent.
So it was a *tad* awkward when I was sent home an hour later because my white blood cell count was too low to receive treatment. Wait — wasn’t I the one with “fantastic” and “spectacular” blood work?? What do you mean no chemo today? I ALREADY HIGH-FIVED PEOPLE. Sigh.
I may be down, but I’m not out. I’ll be back next week to try again. And I can’t promise there won’t be cartwheels.

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