Like the 80s Cameo classic, my stomach has been going Back and Forth. This time in a rather magnificent fashion. At the peak of nausea, there was even a Breaking Bad style head over the toilet moment. Excruciating as it was at the time, I did feel a heady moment of a cultural chemo rite of passage completed. I had arrived at the idea that TV land has of cancer treatment.
Chemo is cumulative so as the drugs build up, the side effects stack. This shiny vom chaos was also due in part to new meds that made me either pass out or upchuck. There will be no further experimentation with meds and I shall stick to the slightly incompetent concoction I had before. The nausea meds work on two places, the stomach and the brain. I don’t know which organ is the main culprit although I can hazard a guess.
I noticed another interesting pattern. Like clockwork on the Saturday after chemo, I get really depressed for a whole 24 hours. I feel like the chemo is never going to end. That I’ll feel like this forever. I get really, really fed up with having cancer. Not angry, never cross, or frustrated. Plain old fed up. The whole point has left the room and buggered off down the pub. I get so down I start to have real and solid understanding of why the right to die movement exists.
Then the next day, it’s like a lightbulb comes back on and it’s gone. My mind lightens and I can see colours again. Everything is doable, all side effects manageable. It’s all possible again. This smidgen of a peek inside the world of depression makes me salute all those with the condition who open their eyes, eat or even just carry on breathing every morning.
By my calculations I have 2 more 24 hour depressions, maybe a couple more vom sessions and 2 weeks of feeling like utter shite in the remaining cycles. So there is an end to this back, back and forth, forth.