Twenty-twenty-twenty-four hours to go. I'm already sedated. But it occurred to me that, with three more chemos left, I've got roughly twenty-four hours left of treatment.

Natch, treatment is the easy part. Thankfully, this week's side effects were very manageable. I'm tired, but I've still managed to get to the gym. My chemo brain doesn't seem as bad (though I'm sure friends and fam who've heard me tell the same stories over and over would dispute that).

Luckily May is a fairly busy month with some fun distractions to keep me busy. Next weekend headed to PB for Lynn's son's engagement party. It's at one of those homes with a name, so it should be a hoot. Heading home for Memorial Day week, where Dana, Lay Ann and the whole old-school crew will be throwing Crazy-Ass Nicole a baby shower. The world better brace themselves for her progeny. And then before I know it it'll be June and I can celebrate the end of fucking treatment. But the real celebration will be after I get the tennis balls out. I'm growing more and more frustrated with them each day. I really need to plan a vacation somewhere for early August so that I have something to look forward to. Right now I ain't got nothing folks.

Been on a cleaning rampage this week, tackling the closet and ridding myself of scores of old clothes. Yay, I can gaze fondly at my shoes and handbags now. And when Beau gets his shit out tomorrow, I will really be free of all the baggage.

A really sick, depressing thought occurred to me today. With the price paid for my wig, I could've practically gotten a Birkin bag. Or two Chanels. All those would last me a lifetime, whereas the wig, God willing, will be history in a few short months.

My hair on the head is not growing back like the docs said. If it were, and I had a regular shaved head again, I would totally rock it. Because it's fucking hot here already. I wear the wig out and I'm sweating like a pre-menopausal woman. It's not fun in the 90-degree-heat and 100% humidity.

There's a big symphony party tonight that all my friends will be at and where I should show my face, but I'm not feeling so going-outy. One of my least favorite things to do now is to be cramped in a smoky club, with people banging into me. And the 'hot up-and-coming' 'hood down here for going out, this area near downtown, is just really fucking scary. There are crackheads—literal Whitney Houston crackheads—who don orange vests and try to get money from you to park your car. It's really scary. I don't think it's advisable to put myself in these situations right now, though I'd love a girls' night out at a civilized restaurant or bar. Really, I'm just too old for these clubs.

I've been eating very healthy this week, which actually seems to be making a difference. I'm already a veggie, but I've managed to resist my constant cravings for junk food. Veggies, fruits, proteins and dairy prods seem to lighten the load that is my body.

I'm not one of those you are what you eat people, but since I am supposed to be sticking to a certain way of eating—low-fat, high protein, lots of veggies and fruits—may as well try everything. Really looking forward to that accupuncture session on Monday.