The night before Toby’s chemo, I’m always a bit sick to my stomach.

“Will tomorrow be the day they tell me the treatment is no longer working? Are they going to say his lymphnodes are swollen again? Will the blood test show his liver enzymes are elevated because of the treatment?

Are we going to make it another month, or is this treatment going to be his last?”

My mind races pretty much the whole day and night before.

“How much is this visit going to cost me? What can I eliminate from my life to save money? What can I do to make more money?”

The whole thought process makes my stomach turn in knots. But, I know if I get too upset, it will negatively impact Toby, because he is so in tune with me. And, that would be the last thing I want to happen.

We are actually at a point whereToby isn’t   completely freaked out when we go to the oncologist’s office. He runs right up the stairs and in the door. He’s clingy, but not super glued to me like usual. He shakes a little but is way more willing to let the vet tech, and doctor, pet him and hold him.

He’s doing really well, and I’m enjoying that, because I know one of these visits it’s not going to be like that. I hope that visit is very far off.