On a nice Wednesday morning I had to go to Louvain to start my chemo therapy. Ow joy! I was really looking forward to pumping my body full with chemicals. Really, that’s my sado and destructive side that was showing. After arriving at the hospital and being guided to some hospitalbed I couldn’t get rid of the feeling that I was in a place where people came to die. Everywhere I saw people just looking like crap.
But there I was, ready to loose my hair, ready to beat the crap out of the cancer in my body.
One and a half hour I sat in a hospitalbed with a tube between my legs (that’s where my veins are easiest accesible apparently). And I had a splendid time, reading a bit, making morbid joke to the nurses and texting to the world that this actually didn’t suck as much as I thought.
Boy, was I mistaken. Only an hour after the treathment I was back at home and those motherfucking chemicals really kicked in. I thought I was dying. Allthough I hadn’t eaten that morning I kept puking my brain out. I had to embrace the tioletbowl so hard people would think by seeing that, that I was actually trying to have sex with it.
It was even so bad I was on the verge of calling my mom and asking her to come over and take care of me. Like she really would have done that (please notice the sarcasm here).
But it says a lot of the state of mind I was in. I was desperate. I never felt this sick in my life. If dying feels like this then I want Euthanasia NOW! One shot and it’s over. For fucksake.
I’m not really looking forward to monday, the next time I need to go for the second threatment.
I’m thinking about drugging myself completly before going again. Let’s hope then it will be different. Otherwise I just don’t know if I can hande it for another 5 weeks.
Mother where are thou?