I hope so too. That chemo was rough on EJ. He was so good to me to help around the farm after my husband died, I grew rather fond of him, but I noticed his smoker's cough was getting worse, so I tried to convince him to give up his suicide sticks, at which he acted surprised that cigarettes had anything to do with his cough. I never mentioned suicide sticks again. Even so, when his diagnosis was in, I did what I could to pay him back for his reasonable handyman rates (for fixing my mowers when they went gunnysack) with massage I learned in sports training at Oregon State or Southern Oregon State (went there one semester after my husband was transferred south during our 5 years in Oregon). I remembered a few that would help some of his arm and lower leg pains, but after about 4 chemo sessions, he hurt too bad for massage to be effective, although I told him it'd be best to stay flexible. By that time, I was taking him food because he was too weak to cook. It gave him enough sustenance to fix his fence or call his family for assistance even though mere walking was painful due to the drugs in chemo. Last time I took him to breakfast, he was back to his old self again, calling and receiving calls from his old girlfriends and flirting with the cute waitress at I-Hop. I figured he was as good as it gets for an 80-year old veteran who lived his whole life being tough as nails, although my phone's here if he ever needs me. I'm not very mechanical, so I don't cotton to farm equipment, but he knows I can be a spare of hands when he needs to fix the hay baler. I was just glad to be there to help him get through the ugly stuff of chemo. It's pure certified hell, but by gosh, when he was down, I told him by this time next year it'd all just be a hazy memory of forgettable bad stuff (didn't know what else to say). I happened to have had fibromyalgia for over 15 years, so I told him if I could stand screaming out loud pain 24-7-365 his 3 months or so of chemo would end like my pain did after parathyroid surgery (which ended the screaming out loud pain stuff). I think he got it, because he hung on and quit those damn suicide sticks, hopefully for once and for all. I'm happy to see him back in the mainstream of living again, and supercharged about spending a little more time in the sewing area of my bedroom, which has kinda taken the place over. <special understatement giggle>