chemo: round 2, day 2

I've had a request from a reader: he asked me to list all the medications I'm receiving and/or taking, along with the side effects I can attribute to each one. So, here's my list and some additional related tips.

i am NOT my hair.

I'm not oblivious to the beauty standard: I just don't measure my self-worth against it, and I don't take comfort or solace in trying to live up to it when I'm under stress.

chemo: day 1, round 1.

Steve lowered himself somewhat cautiously into the patient's +1 chair and gave me a wide-eyed look of happy surprise. I leaned back into my seat, my feet left the floor, my head hit the pillow: instant comfort for me, too.

diagnosis: bad fiction

I must think about this current situation as a different kind of learning experience. That's going to take some extra effort, mentally, on my part - but I think I'm equal to it.

looking for the sausage (or, at the very least, the water-soluble fiber)

In addition to all the unpleasantness and discomfort I've already experienced, I have also had moments of profound and heart-wrenching positivity. These moments have all been unique and wholly unexpected. They have already made all the difference.

(de)evolution

I will never feel confident in my health again, not ever, even if I do beat this cancer. I just hope I'll recognize myself when I'm through.

Happy *$&%^?! Festivus.

If I had ever planned on 'celebrating' a real-life Festivus, this year is it.

time, medicine, and sabotage.

It doesn't feel as if three weeks have passed, but I am losing temporality. It happened first in short bursts - during tests, scans, and appointments. The sound of doctors explaining complex, unhappy medical information has a uniquely memorable cadence.