chemo

Part 2 of my leukemia story. If you are interested read part 1 first.

During the year of 2002 I was always either in hospital having a chemo or recovering from one. Chemo looks so innocent. Just like another IV. It makes you vomit, makes your bones burn, makes you loose your hair and makes the skin in your mouth turn sore so you could not even eat anything if you wanted to. Chemo therapy turned me into a child again. I was 13 and so proud of my independence. Now I needed my mom or my dad for everything. There were days when I was to weak to take a shower myself. So my mom had to shower me like a baby. I felt so ashamed. Yes, my mom had seen me naked many times, but still. I needed my privacy. When you have chemo your body does not belong to you anymore. It is public property all around the clock. The nurse wants to poke you with another needle. Another nurse cleans the port. The next nurse makes you take your medicine , takes your temperature and weighs you (Why do they have to weigh me every single day?)Your mother wants to change your jammies because you have worn them for far too long (in her mind of course). And if you lived through all this, the doctor comes to tell you that they have to do a bone marrow test. This is when you start crying. Ok, they give you some happy pills but it still hurts like hell to poke a needle IN your hip bone. A needle that is as big as your little finger. At least. Hell on earth. The rest of the day you watch your IV, vomit, cry or watch TV. In the beginning of my chemo I was not talking to anyone. I just stared at the TV screen. One day my dad had a brillant idea. He gave me the book of Lance Armstrong. And I turned off the TV and read it. The entire book on one day. I finished it at one o'clock in the morning with a small torch underneath the covers of my bed. The next day I read it again. I don't know how many times I have read it. 20-30 times sounds about right. I knew it by heart and recited it for everyone who would not believe me. Lance Armstrong (doped or not) became my hero. He was the living proof that you could survive AND have a great life afterwards. When I was strong enough again, I got a very nice Trek bike and rode (and swam) my way back to life.

Chemo in the hospital also means that you are lonely. Especially at night. My mom quit her job to be with me, but sometimes she had to go home and at night she could not stay. This was when I talked to J or had my crazy thoughts and dreams to myself. In my chemo breaks I was allowed to go home. If I was not running a fever because my immune system was non existant. Being home felt so good. No needles, no doctors, no nurses! Only mom making me take my meds. Like my hero Lance I went on a walk (almost) ever day. The rest of the day was spent in front of the TV or lying in my bed reading. (I cannot imagine how it would have been if I had owned my own computer. Probably not good).