When I heard I would need chemotherapy to prevent my breast cancer from coming back, I instantly fell to pieces. How could the words “you will be ok” and “chemotherapy” coexist in the same sentence? In my mind, chemotherapy meant the beginning of the end. In my mind, chemotherapy meant falling apart.
But Dr. K., with his gray hair, forty-plus years of oncology practice and mainstream gravitas, was firm and clear on two fronts —I was going to be OK, BUT my cancer treatment called for chemotherapy. You may experience some fatigue, maybe some nausea and, yes, your hair may fall out, but you will handle it just fine—he said.
This got me thinking about my life and other times when, against common belief, I had been just fine. I went through two pregnancies dodging the fatigue bullet, working ridiculously long corporate hours and staying fit. I showed up at the hospital to deliver my first daughter in a mini dress and high-heel boots and, a day later, I was taking power-walk indoor laps through the hallways. And, while I realize pregnancy and chemo are not the same, there is a pre-conceived notion that both —each in its own way— may lead to falling apart.
This got me thinking deeper... If I was able to navigate two pregnancies on my own terms (for the most part), why can’t I do the same with chemo? Or at least, why can’t I just try?
That was the genesis of this blog. A real time journal of my chemo-journey, where I will do my best to separate the myth from my actual experience, and where I will try to challenge (within reason) some of the chemo side effects in an attempt to navigate this journey with style. My own style.
I have no advice to give, and this is no research-based site. BUT, if anything you read here is of use to you or a loved one, feel free to borrow it and then put your own spin to it — your own style.
In the meantime, keep me company just by reading. The journey ahead is scary, and I can’t control that. Let’s see if I can at least sprinkle in some style.
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