Chemotherapy: A Double-Edged Sword
Chemotherapy is designed to combat cancer using cytotoxic medications that target and destroy living cells. However, these drugs can be quite indiscriminate, wreaking havoc on essential bodily functions as well. I underwent an intensive treatment plan—four cycles, each consisting of a week of drug infusion via a port in my chest, followed by two weeks of recovery. My body craved every single moment of that recovery time, and then some. After my first infusion, I felt so weak that I fainted at home, falling and injuring my chin. I had to be rushed to the ER, where they glued my chin back together. From then on, my family insisted I wear one of those Life-Alert pendants around my neck (you know, the “I’ve-fallen-and-I-can’t-get-up” type) for the entire duration of my treatment. Each infusion made me feel progressively worse, leaving me curled up in a fetal position, barely managing to shower, brush my teeth, or eat. By the end of my last treatment, I was so depleted that I required two blood transfusions.
The Quirks of Chemotherapy
Chemotherapy can also lead to strange sensory aversions. After my first round, I found myself repulsed by the smell of coffee—a tragedy for a coffee lover! I began gagging at the sight of the refreshment cart in the chemo ward, particularly at the thought of the turkey sandwiches they offered. With each treatment cycle, I developed more aversions. During my final infusion, I ended up hospitalized for a day or two, and the smells there were unbearable. Yet, paradoxically, I developed cravings for certain foods—like roasted potatoes with ketchup, pickled beets, and, especially, eggs. I found solace in cooking shows; even though I had a laundry list of dietary restrictions and aversions, I could still enjoy watching others eat.
Chemotherapy: A Humbling Experience
After that first infusion (and the subsequent trip to the ER), I surrendered my autonomy and, sadly, my dignity. I had little energy and could easily pass out at any moment, necessitating constant supervision. Showering was a challenge; I could only do it while seated on a medical stool. Getting dressed required a lot of assistance, and let’s just say that using the bathroom was an experience I won’t elaborate on—neither for me nor my caregivers.
Chemotherapy: The Hair-Raising Truth
Yes, chemotherapy often results in hair loss…everywhere. The hardest part for me wasn’t losing the hair on my head (which, by the way, fell out on my 39th birthday) but rather losing my eyelashes and nose hairs. My eyes wouldn’t stop watering, and my nose was constantly running. Losing my sideburns was particularly tough because, even in a hat, I looked bald. Unlike some patients, I didn’t opt for a wig; I’ve always been more of a hat person. After finishing treatment, it took about a month for my hair to start growing back. My first priority? Getting my sideburns back so I didn’t look so sickly.
Finding Humor in the Chaos
What’s left when you’ve lost your hair, appetite, energy, and independence? You start to embrace the absurdity of your situation. My sister stayed with me throughout treatments, and after my hair loss, she gifted me a pair of fake “hillbilly teeth.” The sight of my bald head, pale skin, and crooked false teeth sent us into fits of laughter. We also binge-watched true crime shows and learned that some people can be hilariously inept at crime—especially when viewed in the dead of night while under the influence of painkillers.
Empowerment Amidst Adversity
It might sound like a cliché, but once you’ve survived something as devastating as cancer, everything else in life seems trivial. You discover your inner strength and what truly matters. Being confined to bed gave me the rare opportunity to focus on myself—a notion I had often neglected. During the good days at the end of each treatment cycle, I found myself writing for hours, as if my life depended on it… and in many ways, it did.
Chemotherapy: A Temporary Journey
October 4, 2010, marked my last day of treatment—a day I’ll never forget. The moment I was wheeled out of the hospital and inhaled fresh air was exhilarating. Yet, it took time for the drugs to fully exit my system, and some side effects lingered. I eventually returned to normalcy, but not everything was the same. My hair grew back, except for my right nostril, which has become chronically runny. I still can’t bear the sight (or taste) of turkey sandwiches, but I can’t get enough of those delicious eggs. Most importantly, I’ve committed to prioritizing myself and my writing. In just a few months, I will celebrate five years cancer-free. While I may harbor a lot of resentment towards chemotherapy, I recognize that it saved my life and forced me to reevaluate my priorities.
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Summary
Navigating the challenges of chemotherapy taught me invaluable lessons about strength, resilience, and the importance of self-care. Despite the physical and emotional struggles, I found humor in my circumstances and discovered a renewed focus on my writing. As I approach five years of being cancer-free, I reflect on the journey with gratitude for the life-saving treatment that ultimately reshaped my priorities.