Feeling a little bit better this morning. It must be due to the dozen or so sleeps and maybe the eight or ten trips to the bathroom last night. Over the past few months I have been convinced that the leaps in cancer treatment have virtually eliminated the unpleasant side effects of treatment. HAH! I am a naive child.
Chemo is poison. Deadly, nausea inducing, horrible, ugly poison. I deliberately pumped about a quart of it directly into my circulatory system over a period of 2 days. All I can really say, my friends, is you don’t want to do that. The first time, I am told, it definitely won’t kill you (that danger comes later) but about day three you will wish it would.
Yet I live. And I even woke up hungry this morning. Thankfully, I am allowed a light breakfast before I go back on clear fluids in preparation for a CT scan this afternoon. It’s the “after” pictures from the radiation treatment. I don’t know when I get a chance to see them. My next appointment with the radiation oncologist is in January. Maybe I can request 8 x 10 glossies.
Tomorrow I trek in to St Paul’s again. This time for my very first MRI. I like the procedures that just examine me from a distance. I think the whole cancer treatment process should be that way. Scan me, shoot lasers and radiation at me, prod, poke and push at me, but don’t pump me full of any more poisons.
I am a whimp. I do not deny it.