The Bear Trap

My first infusion of chemo is coming up on Monday, and I’m wondering what it will be like. On the outside, I know I’m going to sit there calmly and probably joke about things to defuse the gravity of what’s happening to me and I’ll appear just fine. But what does this process do to and on the inside of a person? I don’t know yet.

I’ve thought about a lot of high-minded ideas lately, but I think that this is not going to feel like that at all. When the idea of chemo becomes the reality of chemo, I think it’s going to feel brutish and primitive, calling out survival instincts that have been buried deeply within me. It’s going to feel primal- a creature gnawing its own leg off to escape the bear trap. I think it’s going to be the beginning of a life and death struggle that’ll take everything in me just to finish and will leave me changed and scarred in ways I can’t yet anticipate. Gulp.

But still, there’s hope that this thing can turn into more than just the steaming pile of suffering it looks like, just as (excuse my nerdiness) Gandalf said:

“I wish it need not have happened in my time,” said Frodo. “So do I,” said Gandalf, “and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.”

I've had some good coffee this morning and the sun is shining and I feel like living dangerously today, so bring it on and we'll see where this road leads. That's what I'm gonna' do with my time.