Beware the ides of March

I remember laughing with the oncologist when he said that I would begin chemotherapy on the 15th of March... the perfect date to begin something so nasty.  Unfortunately for me, my favorite time of the year, smelling of rain and earth, now also still reeks of poison... a stinky exhale riding on the fresh breezes of Spring.

I remember that Girumy sent his play stethoscope with me for the day.

I remember the feeling that I had walking into the Day Clinic, seeing ALL of those other people with cancer.  Unbelievable.  This was one day at one clinic in one city in one state, etc.  ALL of those people.

I remember feeling strangely fine as the poison was dripped into my blood.  Rob and I talked.  I memorized some verses.  We watched a Psych on the ipad that my family had given me.  A few hours later, the easy part was over.  Because of the steroids, afterwards, I felt normal physically.  But I knew that IT was coming.   I remember looking at Mrs. P. while saying that and she gravely and knowingly nodded.

And a day and a half later... imagine a vacuum, silently sucking nearly all of the life out.

In bed.  Dazed.  Unsettled.  Not asleep.  Not awake.  Slow.  Gross.  The chemo-jar of water, water, water.  The worst headache of my life.

I remember feeling as though I was nearly dead.  I remember thinking that I might not go back for the second, third and fourth doses.

And then, about a week and a half later, once I felt normal again physically, the hair loss.

Eating our last kringle.  Have you ever seen the ingredient list?!

I know that I would be dead already, had I lived in another time or just another place.  I am thankful to be here still, even though the road has been seriously terrible.  Thanks, God.