As the second week post chemo begins I feel as if I am emerging from the depths. Side effects still come and go but not so strongly that I am debilitated. As the body’s responses are new and the path untravelled it is easy however to have moments of blind panic. Dark forces can beckon: the ghoulish buffoon, black dog beside, cackles and suggests despair, escape. A mad spasm, the flash of a knife blade is all there is between life and death. (I hide the largest knife for what it represents). There is a flicker of black tail glimpsed as they exit stage left. Then comes the welcome return of pragmatism: just take the anti-nausea drug, put the bentadine on it, drink the movacol, gargle with the bicarb, kill the handspan huntsman on the wall. Just finish the task at hand in slow-mo instead of the usual flying-by-the-seat-of-your-pants-circus-act that has been your life. Just get on with it girl.
Week 2 post chemo