13 April - Second Chemo

The seat by the window was waiting for me.
The nice nurses as well.
The aluminum foil covered bags of medications were hung on the pole next to me and would, again, be dripping into my veins one after the other.
Medications that are sensitive to light. Scary stuff. This shit is going into me and I should believe it's meant to help me?
Who is the sick f***er that came up with these things?

My hair is slowly getting over the separation anxiety and letting go of my body. I have the feeling that my hair really really likes me. Much more than I like it, and it makes me feel guilty. Because the only bit of hair in my whole body I can tolerate and might feel slightly sorry to lose, are my eyelashes. The rest can go. Never served my right anyway... but it stays — or maybe not for long now? Hey! I have Adriamicine! The ultimate weapon against naughty hair. (Any hair that is brave enough to stay — will be shaved.)


I couldn't fall asleep last night. Didn't feel so good. Some new pains are there now. I guess the more treatments I get — the more new pains I will discover. The body is starting to realize that the first chemo was not a one off mistake and that it's coming again... the inner resistance is recruiting and I suppose next time will even be harder.


The people in the day-treatments room on my Tuesdays are quite the same crowd. I think next week I will start discussing them. Some are quite interesting in a disturbing kind of way.

...and the downs

The second week after the first chemo was a week in the sign of an emotional crash.
Besides the boredom and the inability to do much to entertain myself, I've been confronted with 2 big blows to my spirit:

• The first blow was from the most basic relationship most people have, and this parental relationship, on which I counted for endless non conditional love and emotional support has failed me in the worst possible way. No, she hasn't died on me, thanks god. She just went off and left me, and hadn't spoken to me in almost a week now. nou ja. I shouldn't dwell on this longer. I have a cancer to take care of. I've just learned another lesson in life which i'm not sure what's its purpose, and why must i learn it now of all the last 39 years of my life

But on the other hand — having cancer puts you under trial. Mainly, I think, it's you against your bottom line.
You learn to confront your bottom line and your relationships with your environment and with your self and old and non beneficial relationships are fading out to make place to new ones that are what you need in order to heal.
i cannot take the role of the 'responsible adult' with the people whom role it actually is, and always had been. i need to care only for me. Anyone that cannot support me on this task — can't take part in my healing process.
The only choices I am willing to make at this moment, are on the level of "in which hand I want the infusion done".

• The second blow are thoughts of death. These come when you least expect them. and they are so scary. Looking at trivial things around you, like the curtain of your bedroom, or the rooftops of the buildings across the street and thinking this is the very last time you're looking at them... depressing. I must check if any of my medications contradict the happy pills I'm taking... can't afford death wishes at this stage, can I?

I can't go out for long time. I get awfully tired after around 200 meters of slow walk. All I can do is sit at home... maybe I need to replace the hideous curtain in my bedroom. This should cheer me up, right?

B O R I N G

Cancer turns out to be extremely boring.
I'm starting to develop some conspiracy theories (and some less sophisticated theories) as of why cancer is such a deadly thing.

nou ja...
Maybe i'll go to sleep.

boring...

1st Chemo + 4 Days

It's the end of the 4th day after my first chemo. it's been going surprisingly good — comparing with the intense threats I got from everybody around me.

No major side effects have been registered.
The only things I can clearly notice are the fatigue, the excessive sweating and the sore mouth and throat.
Headaches are also noticeable and earaches.

So I'm spending (much) more time in bed.
My imaginary friends at "World of Warcraft" are keeping me company. I give them names with tiny hints of current affairs, such as "lymphoma", "kankerella", "chemotrip" or "lumpia" (lumpia actually means "egg-roll" —  perhaps it reflects my desire for some chinese take-out?)

I've got my dragon-tail powders from the chinese herbs specialist, as well as some extremely smelly pills.

That's it for now.