The Worst

I think the worst part of chemo is that the side effects are never the same from one day to the next. Just when you think you've got the schedule worked out, it changes. As of last night, for example, I was doing pretty well and figured I'd have a few good days until my next chemo next week. But this morning I've gone totally to pot. Some new chunk of my colon has died, or so it feels like, and I'm intensely nauseated again. Intense. That's not too strong a word for it; I'm breaking a sweat from the effort of not throwing up. I'd let myself throw up if not for the fact that I'd lose the anti-nausea pill I just took; I hate to waste those things.

I'm such a joy to be around these days. I'm constantly sick and all I do is complain. I don't know if I can face four more months of this, frankly, but the thought of dying is even less palatable. So here I sit, sweaty and sick, about as socially appealing as a piece of burnt toast, caught between a rock and a hard place. Lovely.