Night at the Emerg - the aftermath

My mom had to remind me how exhausted I was the last time I had chemo. ‘You wrote about it.” Oh ya, I did.

The idea of rereading that blog post to remind myself how crappy it was seems counterproductive or masochistic. While misery does, to an extent, love company, I think it prefers the company of someone else, not the memory of its own past misery. I’ll take her word for it.

Last night I had a chemo anxiety dream

I dreamt I went for my treatment and hadn’t brought the drugs I needed with me. With Canadian chemo all you need to bring is your arm and some anti-nausea meds you pay for out-of-pocket if you don’t have a drug plan. But my dreams are taking place in other parts of the world where you have to BYOCD, bring your own chemo drugs. The nurses in my dream were annoyed, and blamed me for contravening the BYO. I was sent away to find what I needed.

Extreme Sport of Cancer

I’m drinking. Water, water, water. Dandelion tea. Apple juice, apple juice, dandelion tea. Water, water, water.  Should I set the alarm during the night to drink more?

Yup, that's my bone marrow

The waiting is the hardest part. That’s what many people have told me. It’s the not knowing that’s intolerable.