Chemo. Wow, what a strange and eery experience. I feel as though I’ve been living halfway in reality and halfway in a warped corner of my subconscious; unable to decipher between the two. The seven hour infusion itself wasn’t so bad, I felt like I was on vacation, curled up in my lazy boy reading Hemingway and sipping tea. Not too shabby. Then it hit. By the time I got home I felt like I’d been hit by a mac truck and it took all my energy to crawl onto the couch. Day two was eased by the steroids I have to take surrounding my treatments, so what I thought was a surge of early morning energy turned out to be a false illusion created by the drugs. A simple stroll through the park in the summer sun was all I had in me for the entire day. Food immediately changed taste and any appetite I once had was gone. I’ve heard others describe chemo as a really bad flu, not true. Take your worst flu (begging to be taken to the hospital for fear you’re going to die) and multiply it by ten and then you may be close. A friend asked me the other day what it felt like and I could only sum it up as this, “it’s as if you’re being poisoned to death slowly every second.” Yep, that’s about right.
On the lighter side after three days of pure hell I actually felt better yesterday. I was able to eat food and enjoy the flavor, go to the grocery store, and even work a half day. And let me tell you, after the gnarliness of the few days before I felt like I was Queen of the World. I will gladly take three rough days if it means I may have a bit more energy moving towards round number two. However, I’m weary of thinking it has passed, because I’m sure there’s more to come and I just haven’t seen it yet. Finger’s crossed.