There's that scene in The Godfather where Michael Corleone expresses his frustration his fate's inability to allow him to disassociate himself from his mob ties. "Just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in!" He rasps, fists clenched.
That was me when I started my chemotherapy post operative part of my treatment.
I had literally just learnt to walk upright again without pain and regained some energy, when they stuck another cannula into my vein and filled my battered body with a racy pink cocktail of chemo mega mix. Two for one, 4 times, every 21 days until early November.
During my first session, my vanity told me to wear the Cold Cap: a contraption invented to freeze your scalp to -4 in the hope that your blood flow, with the tasty chemo on board, avoids your hair follicles to prevent hair loss.
However great an ideal this maybe, it's really just an additional sensory overload considering the needle in your hand and the warm gel pad on your arm to keep your vein open and receptive.
Plus, I just looked like Woody Allen in Sleepers (see image at the end of this post, then google Sleepers and have a laugh on me. Not at me!)
Before and after chemo, they fill you with anti sickness drugs, and pre filled injections that are meant to help boast your immunity system, that you self inject into your stomach for 5 days after your session.
After session one, I was so sick I thought I was going to die. The sickness was awful. It took days for my stomach to settle and for me to actually find food tasty or edible again. I still ate and have puffed up as a consequence, which makes me very depressed, but I shall deal with that later.
They tell you to buy a good thermometer, as you have to take your temperature every day. They worry that you'll develop all sorts, as in the first ten days after your session, your immunity is plummeting to zero at a horrifically rapid rate and taking your temp temperature is a good rule of thumb to monitor if there is something more sinister happening.
You develop chemo brain. Which is like a fog inside your head obstructing your ability to think properly about anything.
Best to avoid busy places or people with germs.
Hard call that last one when you live in a city with population of 8 million.
After the sickness subsided, there is a limited period of time when I felt like eating food that I wanted to eat. But then when I ate, I had stomach ache. Don't even ask about the constipation. That saucy little chemo mega mix obviously has the same effect (and ingredients) on my internal organs as a bag of cement mix.
I was sourcing Senna Tablets like an addict hot for her next fix.
To pass your poo without feeling like you are shitting rock, is a pleasure I thought I would never write about. I am sure they deleted that line from The Godfather.
Then I had a series of odd little illnesses and a dry cough that lasted for a short period of time and an unrelenting need to sleep, that even Sleeping Beauty couldn't relate to.
Then it was time for my next session, before which I have to get my blood taken to make sure I am well enough to have my next chemo. I used to be a blood donor, I was always proud of how quickly my blood filled the bag at those sessions. But when I went to get my blood taken for the test, my vein had constricted that the phlebotomist couldn't even get a drop out. So he took it from my hand and I cried as it was so painful. He said "I am really sorry." I said " I can't wait for the day when no one is sticking needles in me."
Then you wait for the oncologist to tell you if your okay. I was surprisingly as I felt so shit. " Your bloods are fine, although your liver is a bit dodgy. We'll keep an eye on that."
Is it really surprising that my liver is having a mass panic? I don't even drink alcohol!
So there I was session two out of four. No Cold Cap this time as I wanted to talk to my chemo buddies and hear their stories, rather than worry about my now dead hair falling or looking like Woody Allen.
They are a nice bunch and just like me, they are just people who are going through the same crappy treatment so that they can get on with their lives.
They gave me additional anti sickness this time. That worked. I wasn't sick, but still felt sick. Smells, mention of food, the smell of smoking or perfume, all turn my stomach.
Then the chemo brain starts again. You feel like your doing everything in slow motion and have the worst hangover in the world. This time, the tiredness was just awful and I haven't been able to do as much. It's incredibly frustrating and annoying and I cried the night before my second session and it was one of the first times my repressed angry about having cancer surfaced.
I didn't want my life to be like this: but it is, for now, until it's done and dusted and this cancer is out of my bloody life and I can close the door in its face like Michael Corleone did to his estranged wife Kay.
Sometimes, you have to be cruel to be kind.
