10 Things I Hate about CHEMO

In the spirit of documenting this journey (as many people keep reminding me to do), today's update will take the form of a 'Top 10' list since receiving chemo treatment 1.

1. The word rancid doesn't work hard enough to describe the mouth taste. For sure the most imposing symptom that I didn't hear about before this started is the horrid metal taste in mouth coupled with most things tasting like trash. It's a bit hard to stay constantly hydrated when water tastes like the back of a tail pipe. Temporary solution? Overspend on coconut water and hydralyte. Still sucks.

   
   

2. Despite knowing my hair was going to fall out, it still really sucked when it did A few days ago it started falling out in clumps; into my hands, on my clothes and all over the bedsheets. In a house with 2 dogs and a toddler the fact it's a noticeable hair type on the timber floor says an awful lot. Despite having already shaved it into what people have affectionately been calling the 'Sinead O'Conner' buzz cut, there was still more than enough left up there to make it seriously suck. There's nothing I guess that can really prepare you for going to scratch an itch and coming away with half an eyebrow. If the whole process could get a wriggle on, preferably focusing on my legs, bikini line and single chin hair (silver linings right?), that'd be great.
   

3. I should have better recorded the symptoms (and will do this next time) To be fair, the whole thing is obviously on the overwhelming side and the last thing you think of doing when you're trying to decide whether or not the last thing you ate wants to come out the top end or the bottom end, is about writing it down. But, I would be doing future me a solid by mapping out the 3 solid phases of symptoms so that the professionals can give me the really good drugs that for some reason they decided not to give me up front despite me threatening them improperly hard several times with the energy that comes with my lifelong phobia of vomiting that if they didn't give me the gold standard anti-nausea drugs I would come for them. At a high level, Days 1-5 were unexpectedly OK. I was tired and had a bit of nausea but the steroids were strong. I was weirdly starving and satiated that with lots of carbs thinking that I could handle bread the most if it came up the other way. In hindsight I should have used that high to pile in the vitamins and vegetables. Not just for the microbiome that takes an enormous beating throughout this whole ordeal, but to better prepare for the onslaught of digestive tract issues that hit from days 6-10. In conversation with someone the other day we nailed the likeness down to if one combined the worst of COVID with the worst of pregnancy morning sickness. Lucky enough to have experienced both, I can't think of a better analogy although I hope you the reader are not so blessed and so will list of the main bits; deep, crushing exhaustion that's in your bones, muscle pain that leaves you not being able to sit still but also you don't want to move, bowel movements that hit you like a truck and leave you having to scrub the evidence out of places of the toilet you never knew existed which is great fun when you're so toxic the Doctor's have isolated you to your own toilet anyway, nausea that is one part real sickness one part related to a wave of reactions to the meds and one part anxiety about the whole thing, dry skin with open sores everywhere on top of the rankness in the mouth which comes with ulcers and this one took me by surprise, a constantly bleeding nose from it being so dry which is now being aggravated by my bloody nose hairs falling out. woohoo! In summary, getting the pen and paper out should help our responses next time.

4. Don't let your Husband go overseas when you're undergoing treatment

In all seriousness, despite it being tough these last 10 days have gone as well as I could have asked them to go. Probably I shouldn't have bought a puppy a few weeks ago as I could have done without the inside urination but all things considered it's been pretty fun and worth doing once in your life just to see how much real grit you've got. I think the Universe gave me a few free passes.

5. Flowers are not a good gift for a cancer patient I will caveat this with the people who have sent/given flowers are SO APPRECIATED. The sentiment behind them is received, cherished and so genuinely appreciated. That being said, flowers are an unfortunate burden during this time. It's not easy to see the dirty water or dropping flowers from the sofa where you can't move from, knowing it needs tending to and there's a kind of weird depressing-ness to the dying of them that just sucks to deal with in the context of dealing with cancer. I'm for sure going to get some bad ju-ju from this and I know cancer patients are all meant to be able zen and forgiveness but here I am saying it anyway. C'est la vie.
   

6. It's cliche but there really is huge highs and really low, lows The only word for how I have felt these past few days less than 48 hours out from the next chemo treatment is.. vibrant. I don't know if it's the comparison of this state to the sickness of those first 2 weeks or my body's response to the changes in my diet and lifestyle that I absolutely put in place from the moment this thing hit, but I feel great and am really trying to ride the wave from time at the gym and with my son or savouring every bite of the meal that actually tastes nice in front of me. My mind is kindly blurring over the truly awful bits that plagued Day 6-10 as it did when I birthed my son out of me a home without painkillers, but I'm deeply aware of their potential to come around again and maybe, probably, but hopefully not, worse.. The Doctor's call it 'anticipatory' sickness and yes despite me thinking there is no way that's happening to me a smart, enlightened woman, it absolutely has.
   

7. They really shouldn't let us drive I genuinely asked the oncology team if they let people drive home from getting chemo. They said yes. Blows my mind. Not only should that not be ok, but at no point during the first 10 days should we be allowed to drive unless absolutely necessary. Just a personal opinion but seriously, I'll be owning the passenger seat.
   

8. If anyone has a way to get in touch with Andy Samberg, please let me know. His sense of humour has gotten me through the hardest of times in the past and is a constant lifeline for me already through this. Mainly Brooklyn 99 with all seasons on repeat for probably the 100th time since our world's all went sidewise in 2020, but I would truly listen to the guy riff off jokes and genuinely make the world a much happier and funnier place in anything he has been in. God bless you man.
   

9. It sucks that your friend/family member had cancer. But I don't want to chat See previous disclaimer on Point 5 regarding upmost respect for sentiment. The truth is though that I currently* (*it's worth pointing out that this might change) do not want to be connected with them. There are a few exceptions to the case where I really have wanted to because I had questions OR out of respect to the person making the suggestion because despite the tone of the update today, I do try not to go around being a dick unnecessarily. However, I have mostly felt like I wanted to not. It's a bit because I really want to avoid being part of a cancer 'club' and letting this thing own me (which is really getting increasingly tough given my algorithm has decided I needed to be constantly peppered with AD's for everything from head scarves to every breast cancer charity group under the sun) but it's also because I have felt an overwhelming urge to lean into a closer circle of friends and family. I don't have the energy for small talk and being an off-the-scale introvert that's spent all her working life projecting a persona of extreme extrovert to keep people at an arm's length, I don't have the energy for socialisation in general. I respect that I could greatly benefit from the companionship and advice of others, but at least for now, I don't care that your second cousin's, mother-in-law, had breast cancer.
   

10. I reserve the right to be a selfish dick (for a while) Demonstrated in style by the above points and the lack of quality for this last point.

With love and not a lot of grace today,

Emma.