I’ve been trying to find the right words to describe what it feels like to reach this point, but some moments are almost impossible to put into words. Finishing Abemaciclib feels like closing a chapter that has challenged me in ways I never could have imagined.
I still remember collecting that very first box. I remember the fear I felt after already facing months of surgery, chemotherapy and radiotherapy, wondering how my body would cope with another stage of treatment. I worried about the side effects, the uncertainty, and whether I would have the strength to keep going.
The beginning was tough. The exhaustion was unlike anything I had experienced. Nausea, diarrhoea, and a constant stream of medications to manage the side effects became part of my everyday routine. There were days when I honestly wondered how I would continue, especially while trying to navigate everything else life was asking of me at the same time.
But slowly, one month at a time, I adapted.
I learned to understand my body in a way I never had before. I learned what made the difficult days harder, what helped me recover, and when I needed to stop fighting against my limitations and allow myself to rest. It never became easy, but eventually it became manageable. It became something I could handle.
And now, here I am — reaching the end of almost two and a half years of chemotherapy treatment overall.
Looking back, I see the tears, the setbacks, the unexpected hospital visits, and the moments where I felt completely overwhelmed. There were times when treatment felt like it had taken over every part of my life.
But alongside those moments, I also see resilience. I kept going.
I made a conscious choice not to put my life on hold until treatment was finished. I found moments of happiness, created memories, laughed when I could, and continued to be myself even during the hardest days.
While this chapter is coming to an end, my treatment journey continues. I’ll remain on hormone therapy and targeted treatment for another five years.
One thing cancer has taught me is that many people assume treatment ends when chemotherapy ends. But the reality is that the impact of treatment can continue long after the final dose.
For me, Abemaciclib is still leaving its mark. One of the ongoing side effects I experience is thrombocytopenia (low platelet counts), which means I bruise more easily and can be more prone to minor bleeding.
That’s what caused the broken blood vessel in my eye.
It may look alarming in photographs, but the reality is that it feels far less dramatic than it appears. It’s simply another visible reminder that recovery doesn’t always happen in a straight line, and that there is often so much more happening beneath the surface than people can see.
Cancer doesn’t end the moment chemotherapy finishes. Healing is not a perfectly smooth path, and the effects of treatment can continue in ways that are not always visible to others.
Today, I’m choosing to celebrate this milestone.
I’m proud of myself for making it through the difficult days. I’m grateful for every person who supported me along the way. And I’m reminding myself that although treatment continues, so does life.
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