Sporty Spice is in the toilet...

Okay, so I was all ready to write some cute entry full of witty repartee about my last chemo treatment. It would be filled of tales of how cute I looked in my light blue Burberry baseball hat with my cutie petutie Sketchers that kind of look like bowling shoes. I would tell tales of how the nurses told me I was adorbs. I looked like Sporty Spice goes to chemo. I would laugh as I recalled how Jeffrey (Aforementioned wonderful medical queen) came up to me and asked how the poison was going. I laughed and said fine. We sucked on hard candies. I would recount how my trip to chemo #2 was relatively uneventful and not so bad. I would talk of I am starting to get to know everyone. How Floor 21 of Northwestern feels a little bit more like same old same old. I would giggle as Jeffrey apologized for still not getting me the penthouse. He bitched to Lamar (another wonderful queen) about how we would be canceling our reservation if our needs weren't met. Tee hee hee. Cancer's so fun. No worries.

The problem with this plan is it's wrong. Chemo isn't fun. I can act like it's fine all I want, but it's just not the case. The first couple of days were fine- I felt a little yucky, I took my drugs, the steroids made me pack like 30 boxes for our move. Then the neulasta (the white blood count booster) hit. I felt like I'd been beat up with numerous aluminum baseball bats. It was hard to get out of bed. It has been near impossible to focus on anything, much less work. My stomach was all fucked up. The only thing that made it feel better was to eat. But that didn't make it feel better at the same time. It's Tuesday night and I'm just starting to feel better.

I'm almost totally bald. And dammit, my dog just ate my Birkenstock right when I shaved my head. How can I complete my lesbian chic look now? The night I shaved my head, my hair started to come out by the handful. Now I understand why they said to shave it first. My head is very pasty. I look sick. I look like I've got cancer. I get funny looks when I walk my dogs with just my hat on. These 10 minute walks make me winded. There are whispers in the apartment complex I live in. I get the sad eyes all the time now. Hard to hide it.

So I'm sorry if you didn't get the funny chemo stories. Really, that day, it wasn't so bad. Guess I'm just not really in the mood now.

(DISCLAIMER: Upon rereading this entry, I realize I sound very pathetic and unwell. In reality, I am feeling better and I will be fine. Besides, Pizza Hut just got here. Can't be all bad.)