I will miss the taste of chemo, I will miss the blood return, I will miss the grogginess coming over me in minutes, like a warm blanket suffocating my head and closing my eyes without my permission. I will miss watching the drip drip drip of overkill to save my life. I will miss the cold sips of ice water out of a paper cup. I will miss peeing hooked up to a rolling IV, in the intermission between pre-meds and the hookup of da good shit. I will miss the strange colors and odors of my pee during and in the days after chemo. I will miss the stool softeners, the Ativan, the Vicodin. I will miss the seven days of shots for four weeks following each round of AC. I will miss the exorcist Port, and the PICC snake slack making its home in the tender skin of my arm. I will miss the constipation. I will miss the nausea and the vertigo, the fog and the fuzzy logic. I will miss the aversion to red kool-aid liquids, reminding me of AC.
And let's not forget the hair, falling strands turning into clumps turning into skeins turning into dead dreadlocks turning into a sore and tender scalp turning into bald as Kojak.
September 24, 2010