Chemotherapy is Challenging
Chemotherapy utilizes cytotoxic drugs to combat cancer, but these medications don’t discriminate; they target all living cells, which can wreak havoc on essential bodily functions. My treatment regimen was quite intense, involving four cycles of drug infusions delivered through a port in my chest, followed by two weeks dedicated to recovery. My body craved every bit of that recovery time—and then some. After my initial infusion, I became so weak that I fainted at home, resulting in a trip to the ER where my chin was patched up with surgical glue. From that point on, my family insisted I wear a Life-Alert pendant (yes, the one for “I’ve fallen and can’t get up”) for the duration of my treatment. With each infusion, I felt increasingly unwell, often curled up in the fetal position, struggling to muster the energy to shower or even eat. By the end of my last treatment, I was so drained that I needed two blood transfusions.
Chemotherapy is Deceptive
Then there were the unexpected sensory aversions. Following my first infusion, the smell of coffee became nauseating—an absolute tragedy for a coffee lover like me. I also started gagging at the sight of the refreshment cart in the chemo ward, particularly at the thought of the turkey sandwiches they offered. Each cycle seemed to bring a new set of food aversions; by my final infusion, the hospital’s smells felt unbearable. Oddly enough, I craved certain foods intensely, like roasted potatoes with ketchup and—strangely enough—pickled beets. Eggs became my ultimate obsession. I found solace in watching cooking shows, as I couldn’t enjoy much of the food myself due to dietary restrictions and aversions.
Chemotherapy is Degrading
After my first infusion and the unfortunate fall that led to my ER visit, I found myself surrendering not only my autonomy but also my dignity. I was so weak that someone needed to be with me at all times, including during basic activities like showering (which I could only do seated on a medical stool) and getting dressed. I won’t delve into the bathroom situation, but let’s just say it was far from pleasant for either me or my caregivers.
Chemotherapy is (Completely) Depilatory
Most chemotherapy treatments lead to hair loss, and mine was no exception. Losing my hair was tough, but it was the loss of my eyelashes and nose hair that truly got to me; my eyes watered constantly, and my nose wouldn’t stop running. I also missed my sideburns because they made me look less bald, even when wearing a hat. Unlike many other patients, I opted out of wearing wigs; hats just felt more like me. It took about a month after treatment for my hair to start growing back, and I was desperate for my sideburns to return first.
Chemotherapy is Hilarious
With the loss of hair, appetite, energy, and autonomy, I chose to embrace the absurdity of my situation. My sister, who stayed with me throughout my treatment, gifted me a set of fake “hillbilly teeth.” The combination of my bald head, pale skin, and crooked teeth led to endless laughter. We also binge-watched true crime shows, and one thing we learned is that some criminals are incredibly dim-witted. Watching their antics while under the influence of painkillers provided us with comedic relief.
Chemotherapy is Empowering
It may sound cliché, but surviving something so harrowing puts life into perspective. You begin to realize your inner strength and understand what truly matters. Forced bed rest allowed me to focus on myself—something I had never prioritized before. It also gave me the opportunity to write when I felt up to it. Before my diagnosis, I always placed others and their needs above my own, but with nowhere to go and nothing to do, I turned to my writing. During the better days of each infusion cycle, I would write fervently, as if my life depended on it—and in many ways, it did.
Chemotherapy is Not Forever (Though Some Side Effects Are)
My last treatment day was October 4, 2010, a moment etched in my memory, especially as I breathed in fresh air after leaving the hospital. However, it took time for the drugs to clear my system and for side effects to vanish. I eventually returned to my normal routine, but not entirely unchanged. My hair grew back, but my right nostril is now perpetually runny. The thought of turkey sandwiches still makes me queasy, yet I can’t get enough of delicious eggs. Most importantly, I have learned to prioritize myself and my writing. I’ll be celebrating five years cancer-free soon—despite my disdain for chemotherapy, I recognize it saved my life and forced me to reorder my priorities.
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Summary
Navigating chemotherapy can be a grueling journey filled with unexpected challenges and lessons. From physical debilitation and sensory aversions to moments of humor and newfound empowerment, the experience reshapes one’s perspective on life and priorities. Ultimately, surviving cancer and its treatments can lead to profound personal growth and a stronger sense of self.
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