Chemo

I’ve been putting off writing this post for a fair while. Partly because it talks about an experience that is really hard to describe, and partly because the experience made gathering the physical and mental energy to write extremely difficult.

So here goes.. and Mum — I’m sorry theres probably going to be bad words in this post — if you’d like a redacted version send me a fax to that effect and I’ll arrange it.

Chemo is the primary medical treatment that most people associate with cancer. It strikes fear into anyone who hears it mentioned and brings images of bald stick figure cancer victims struggling within an inch of their lives, throwing their guts up and generally being miserable.

You never hear a positive story about chemo, you never see documentaries hero worshiping oncologist disrupters in black turtle necks and even more rarely do you hear how chemo has positively changed someone’s life.

I’m probably not going to do much to change that today because lets get one thing straight — chemo sux. Every three weeks my immune system was stripped down to nothing and rebuilt. The exhaustion and other effects of this process take you on an equivalent psychological journey which no matter how great the support around you can leave you feeling incredibly alone and wondering if you’re ever going to make it through.