What I Discovered Through Cancer and Chemo

Chemotherapy is Tough

Chemotherapy battles cancer with powerful drugs that target living cells, but unfortunately, they can also harm healthy cells. I underwent a rigorous treatment plan that involved four cycles of drug infusions, each followed by two weeks of recovery. My body desperately needed that recovery time, sometimes even more. After my first infusion, I felt so weak that I fainted at home and ended up in the ER with a busted chin, all patched up with surgical glue. From then on, my family insisted I wear one of those Life-Alert pendants—yes, the classic “I’ve fallen and I can’t get up” kind. Each infusion left me feeling worse; I often curled up in a fetal position, struggling to find the energy to shower, brush my teeth, or even eat. After my final treatment, I was so depleted that I required two blood transfusions.

Chemotherapy is Unpredictable

Then came the bizarre sensory aversions. After the first infusion, I suddenly couldn’t stand the smell of coffee, which was a tragedy for someone like me. I would gag at the sight of the refreshment cart in the chemo ward, especially those turkey sandwiches. As my treatment progressed, I developed more aversions. During my last infusion, I had to stay in the hospital for a couple of days, and the smells there were unbearable. Yet, I found myself craving odd things like roasted potatoes with ketchup, pickled beets, and, above all, eggs. I spent hours watching cooking shows—while I couldn’t eat much myself, it was fun to watch others enjoy food.

Chemotherapy is Humbling

After my first infusion—and that unfortunate ER visit—my independence vanished. I needed someone by my side at all times, whether I was showering (only while seated on a medical stool), getting dressed, or, well, using the bathroom. Let’s not get into the details, but it was definitely an experience I wouldn’t wish on anyone, especially my caregivers.

Chemotherapy is Hair-Raising

Yes, most chemo treatments lead to hair loss…everywhere. Losing my hair on my head was tough, especially since it happened on my 39th birthday. But losing my eyelashes and nose hair was even worse; my eyes watered constantly, and my nose ran like a faucet. I also missed my sideburns—without them, I felt like a total bald person, even with a hat on. I opted out of wigs since they didn’t feel like “me.” Once the treatments ended, it took a while for my hair to grow back, but I was mostly eager to see my sideburns return so I wouldn’t look so sick anymore.

Chemotherapy is Comical

When you lose your hair, appetite, energy, and sense of control, you might as well find humor in the absurdity of it all. My sister stayed with me throughout my treatments, and after I lost my hair, she gifted me a set of fake “hillbilly teeth.” The sight of my bald head, pale skin, hollow eyes, and crooked false teeth had us both in stitches. We also binge-watched true crime shows, and let me tell you, some people can be hilariously dumb when attempting to commit crimes—especially while I was on a mix of painkillers.

Chemotherapy is Empowering

It may sound cliché, but surviving something so devastating really puts everything else in perspective. You discover your strength and learn what truly matters. Being bedridden forced me to focus on myself, something I had never prioritized before. It also provided me the time to write when I felt up to it. Before my diagnosis, I’d always put others and everything else ahead of my writing, but with nowhere to go and my mind still functioning, I had no choice. Towards the end of each treatment cycle, I’d have a few good days where I could write for hours, pouring my heart into it as if my life depended on it—and in many ways, it did.

Chemotherapy is Temporary. (Though Some Effects Linger.)

I’ll never forget my last day of treatment—October 4, 2010. The moment I was wheeled out of the hospital and inhaled fresh air was unforgettable. However, it took time for the drugs to exit my system and the side effects to fade. Eventually, I returned to my normal self, though not everything was the same. My hair grew back, except for my right nostril, which is now always a bit runny. I still can’t look at turkey sandwiches without feeling nauseated, but my love for delicious eggs remains. Most importantly, I’ve learned to prioritize myself and my writing. In just a few months, I’ll celebrate five years cancer-free. While I have my grievances with chemotherapy, I know it saved my life and pushed me to get my priorities straight.

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Summary

Going through chemotherapy was a challenging yet enlightening experience. I faced physical and emotional hurdles that stripped away my autonomy but taught me resilience. The side effects were tough, but they also allowed me to find humor in the absurdity of life. Ultimately, I emerged empowered and with a renewed focus on my writing and self-care. As I approach five years cancer-free, I understand the importance of prioritizing myself and my passions.