Chemo

Chemo is a crazy beast. It is everything people think it is and worse. Or at least it used to be. I take solace in thinking that a lot of things have changed as far as treatments go in the last 13 years. 

As a first timer it is an incredible mix of being sad and scared. Here you are with all of your hair walking past people of all races, colors and ages and it becomes abundantly clear that cancer does not discriminate. You read every face that you pass and wonder which cancer has been eating away at them. Some people were sleeping, others reading, some just looking around. Some people had a friend or spouse or other support person with them. Some were alone. Some people were proudly bald, some had new hair growth, some wore hats. There were a few women with beautiful scarves tied neatly around their heads.  Everyone watches you, pities you, because you have no idea how shitty this is going to be. It's like walking the Green Mile.

My mother always sat with me. Always. I think it was harder for her than it was for me. Now that I am a mother I have a new appreciation for what she went through. The helplessness is debilitating. She always said that if she could trade places with me, she would. I know that wasn't just talk.

My friend Natalie was with me all but one of my treatments. Even coming home from school to hold my hand. That was huge. I realize that more now than when it was happening especially because we were kids and the world was her oyster. She could have been anywhere and done anything but she was with me to show that she hadn't given up on me and I shouldn't give up either.

Another memory of all of this was that the cafeteria at Barnes was directly below the chemo room. My brain made the association with the smell of the Aunt Annie's Pretzels with being sick from chemo. For several years the smell of pretzels made me throw up. I wish I was kidding about that! I love hot pretzels!

After a treatment I would be very tired. I was still trying to work and would often fall asleep on the job. I was still trying to hide it and would often get ribbed for "being out too late again" last night. Sometimes that was true, I have to admit. I played hard for many years. But the chemo was a huge energy drain. On the third day like clock work the nausea would start. I would throw up for days at a time. I remember feeling paralyzed in my bed because I felt that if I moved just a muscle I would throw up again. How can you vomit so much without eating? My throat was raw. My body was weak. It was like the flu times a million.

And then the worst of it would pass. In the next two weeks I would do my best to rest up and eat if I could so that I would be ready for the next treatment. Then it would start all over again.

I was lucky in so many ways. I made it to the other side. I have been in remission ever since. At the time I didn't understand that. I was just mad. I hated cancer, I still do. I hate everything about it. I hated having it. I hated that some of the people in that chemo room were there every week that I was and would probably be there for weeks after I was done. I hated when some of those people I got used to seeing weren't there and  I had to wonder if they had been cured, had passed away or changed their appointment times. I hated that my friends were having the time of their lives and I was just trying to live. This was the beginning of a very dark time in my life.