Two weeks ago Johnny had the works and bounced back very quickly. We didn’t let him do anything that weekend though — usually he’s out skating or surfing by Sunday. I think keeping him on lock-down helps with his recovery — imagine that — taking it easy after chemo…

His counts have been so strong they have increased his oral meds — he is inching ever so close to — dare I say — normal dosages?!?!?! I know we’ve talked about this before, more meds equals this:

I guess the good news is, his hair is almost cutting itself — through attrition… pretty soon all the long hair will be gone and the short will be right behind it. Well, that’s what I keep telling myself anyway.

Our big issue right now is his meds. He is fighting us every night about them — very out of character for him. I was telling a friend this and they compared it to my marathon, when I reached mile 18, all I could think about was stopping even though I was so close to the end. They mentioned maybe having a count down — right now we only have 13 more clinic visits — doing that makes it much more manageable.

At the last clinic visit one of the nurses saw us and said — “You guys still here? I thought he was done with treatment?” We told her how close we are and then she asked “Are you going to have a big party when your done?” Johnny very enthusiastically said “YES!” the same time I said no. She asked why not, and I told her about our fears and she said “You have to have a party. Live one day at a time. You have to have a party.”

Johnny chimed in with a snarky, “Yeah mom!” She went on to say that kids have pinatas and tape pictures or words representing meds, chemo, spinals, IV’s, needles and let the kid beat the shit out of it. That suggestion I like! At Sophie’s birthday party we had a pinata and after someone finally cracked it open the kids ran for the candy. Not Johnny. He asked if he could finish it off.

The kid went after it! It reminded me of a scene from Goodfella’s or something. He looked like Joe Pecci whacking someone, no remorse in his eyes, just finishing it off. He didn’t stop until he was ready and I could tell it felt really good to him — letting out all of his anger.

Another friend of ours told us to have a party too. Her son was diagnosed when he was three, went through treatment, was in remission, considered a long-term survivor and then it came back last Thanksgiving. She told us to celebrate the new beginning, because it’s a huge step in his recovery not only for Johnny but for all of us — a rite of passage. Now I’m leaning toward an End of Treatment Kegger or something… We have some time to think about it, I’ll keep you posted.