The Grueling Reality of Chemotherapy
Chemotherapy is a treatment designed to combat cancer by utilizing cytotoxic medications that target and destroy living cells. Unfortunately, these drugs do not discriminate, impacting many essential bodily functions. My treatment involved an intensive schedule of four cycles, each consisting of a week of drug infusion through a port placed in my chest, followed by two weeks of recuperation. My body craved every second of that recovery time. After my first infusion, I was so weak that I fainted while trying to get to the bathroom, injuring my chin in the process. An ambulance ride to the ER and some surgical glue later, my family insisted I wear a Life-Alert pendant for the remainder of my treatment—yes, the “I’ve fallen and I can’t get up” kind. Each infusion left me feeling progressively worse, reduced to the fetal position with barely enough strength to shower, brush my teeth, or eat. By the end of my treatment, I required two blood transfusions.
The Strange Senses of Chemotherapy
Chemotherapy often brings about unexpected aversions. After my first infusion, the smell of coffee, a longtime favorite, became nauseating. I gagged at the mere sight of the refreshment cart in the chemo ward, particularly at the thought of the turkey sandwiches. These peculiar aversions multiplied with each cycle. During my final infusion, I spent an extra couple of days in the hospital, where the odors nearly overwhelmed me. Yet, amidst these aversions, I craved roasted potatoes with ketchup, pickled beets, and, most notably, eggs. I immersed myself in cooking shows, finding joy in watching others eat even if I couldn’t partake.
The Loss of Autonomy and Dignity
Following my first infusion—and the subsequent hospital visit—I felt as if I had relinquished my autonomy, and dignity swiftly followed. My energy was so depleted that I needed constant companionship. Everyday tasks became monumental challenges; I could only shower while seated on a medical stool and required assistance to dress. Let’s just say the bathroom experience was less than pleasant for both me and my caregivers.
The Hair Loss Journey
Most chemotherapy regimens lead to hair loss, and I wasn’t spared. While losing my hair on my head on my 39th birthday was tough, it was the loss of my eyelashes and nose hair that really bothered me, as I dealt with constant watering eyes and a runny nose. Losing my sideburns was particularly disheartening because it made me look even more unwell, even with a hat. I opted out of wigs, preferring to embrace my identity as a hat person. It took about a month after treatment for my hair to begin growing back, and my sideburns were my first priority.
Finding Humor in the Absurd
What do you do when faced with the loss of hair, appetite, energy, and independence? I chose to embrace the absurdity of my situation. My brother stayed with me during treatment, and when my hair fell out, he gifted me a set of fake “hillbilly teeth.” The combination of my bald head, pallid skin, and crooked teeth had us both in stitches. We also binged on true crime shows, where we learned that some people are astonishingly foolish. Watching their antics in the early hours while on painkillers provided a much-needed dose of laughter.
Empowerment Through Adversity
It may sound like a cliché, but surviving something as harrowing as cancer puts everything else into perspective. You discover your own strength and what truly matters in life. Being confined to bed forced me to focus on myself, something I had often neglected. I found time to write, tapping into my creativity during the periods of relative calm between infusions. I wrote as though my life depended on it—and in many ways, it did.
The Temporary Nature of Chemo
My last day of treatment was a defining moment, etched in my memory forever. As I was wheeled out of the hospital and inhaled fresh air, a wave of relief washed over me. It took time for the drugs to leave my system, and while I eventually returned to a semblance of normalcy, not everything reverted to how it was. My hair grew back, but my right nostril is now perpetually runny. I still struggle with the sight of turkey sandwiches, yet my love for eggs remains undiminished. Most importantly, I prioritize myself and my writing like never before. In a few months, I’ll celebrate five years of being cancer-free. While I have my grievances with chemotherapy, I recognize that it saved my life and prompted me to take charge of it.
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In summary, my journey through cancer and chemotherapy taught me about resilience, humor, and the importance of self-care. It was a path filled with challenges, but it ultimately led to a stronger sense of self and priorities that truly matter.