This Thursday was my third weekly chemo treatment. Typical chemotherapies seem to be dosed in 3 week cycles, since I’m getting this one –Taxol—weekly, my dosage is roughly one-third what some patients get.
I was told that between weeks two and four, if I am to lose my hair on Taxol, this would be the timeframe. Dosage two came and went and I found myself analyzing my in-shower shedding: Typical shedding? Chemo shedding? Hmm...seems typical to me. I guess. Maybe.
Then came this…Continue
I'm sitting in the hallway of the MD Anderson Ambulatory Treatment Center. I had every intention of zipping on down here from work, hopping into a chair and zipping back to work for a couple hours post-treatment. I may still do that sometimes, but just as in any other hospital, of course nothing happens in the time frame you may hope for.
My appointment was at 3pm. It is now 3:57.
Last week was pretty quick to get into a chair, only after an early morning getting a port…Continue
There are a few things in life we say are certain; death and taxes are primary on that list.
I was uncertain the mass on my chest was cancer. I couldn’t bring myself to hope that it was not.
With the diagnosis, my fear was not chemo, but the inevitable—the certain—maintenance of work interactions. The meddlers, the Jesus-freaks, and the woman who managed to make my life a means for her to feel important.
It took an email explicitly forbidding her discussion of my…Continue