Most people, thankfully, are "chemo-naive" and
will always be. Technically "chemo-naive" means you have not had
chemotherapy. It's a clinical research term, for classifying subjects. You are
chemo-naive, until you aren't.
But that first time, Round 1 Day 1, you still don't know how
it's actually going to feel for you.
Because "everyone is different" and may or may not experience some or
all of the side effects. I called it Stepping Into The Void. You come home...not
knowing. You sit, waiting for the other shoe to drop, waiting for the hammer blow.
Cowering, basically. But I did write everything down, as was advised by a
colleague who'd been through it before, so I'd at least know what to expect the
next time. I even made a little data-table of side effects (I made a passing
acquaintance with almost all the side effects), with Consumer Reports-like circles indicating
severity. Overall, the best description I can come up with of what chemo feels like
inside is "unbidden storm" -- some strange weather that presents
itself in your bloodstream, clouding up ang giving a waterlogged feeling especially in your abdomen, chest, neck and
throat.
I'm not naive anymore. My eyes are wide open. My friend Natalie
passed along this etymology: "In Greek the word for poison and medicine is
the same: pharmakon. Also related to
sorcery and sacrifice. A heady stew of the most elemental human stuff and all working
their magic." With the help of my Quaker Guides, and a book by Stephen
Levine entitled Healing Into Life and Death, I practiced reframing my attitude
towards the chemotherapy from "poison" to "healing
medicine" which I openly invite into my body so it can be conveyed into
the areas of need (See Meditation on Taking Medicine Within). I also have a
nickname for my "port" (medical device inserted under my skin above
my right breast, into which infusion needle is placed to deliver the medicine).
I like to call it the portal. And, I worked with my friend Marilyn, who
recorded a guided imagery meditation for me to listen to while getting the
infusion (and any other time I want to listen to it). It incorporates images
from my favorite places and associations, and carries me safely along while the
medicine is coursing through my body.
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