Last Call (for Al-chemo-hol) Drum roll please...I've tasted my final chemo cocktail! I rung in Round 8 with three of my best friends at my bedside, while a dear old friend and fellow cancer survivor sipped herceptin in the chair next to mine, cheering me on every step of the way. I came prepared for my final face-off with the frigid footwear; sporting my daughter's "monkey legs" (essentially, leg warmers) pulled down to my toes, I had instant toasty tootsies and ankles. My nails, appropriately decked out in Sally Hansen's "Brisk Blue" were left to face the frosty wrath of the freezer mitts and booties one last time. We chatted and laughed the hour away, pausing only to consume a steady stream of homemade bite-sized brownies. Before I knew it, happy hour was over and it was time for me to sound the ginormous "end of chemo" bell. And boy, did I ring that victory bell! I was not leaving chemo pod land without a proper send o...