Showing posts from April, 2018

I come as one, but I stand as 10,000

On the morning of my first chemotherapy treatment, I got up before dawn. As my family slept, I stood in front of the bathroom mirror, pulled up my threadbare Mickey Mouse shirt and stared at my body.
My brown, rounding figure wears my age, my former vices and my lust for carbs. My eyes fell to my right breast, which is now noticeably shorter than the left. I assume that is because the HER2 positive cancer inside has eaten away at spaces and places.
Above my left breast, there is a scar that marks a port buried beneath and just above that, a mark on my neck is where a catheter feeds into a vein. Every three weeks, that will be the path where the drugs will be inserted and prayerfully shrink this disease.
Not knowing what to expect, the movie inside my head began to unfold. Will it hurt when the nurse tries to access my port? Will the chemicals burn as they flow through my veins? Will I immediately become sick and my hair fall to the ground?
The questions got louder and louder like a gnat…