Chemo

Chemotherapy is hell on wheels. You fight a monster with poison, but how much of that poison can your body take and you still keep functioning? (Patrick Swayze... Rest in peace, Patrick.)

Chemotherapy has saved the lives of countless numbers of cancer patients. I thank God that He allowed Drs. and researchers the knowledge and wisdom to develop these life-saving treatments. But I have to be honest and say that our days in the chemo lab were some of the hardest ones we faced.

First of all, the world of terminal illness is just plain GRIM. You see it on the face of every patient in the chemo lab. I’m not saying that you don’t also see hope, because you do. There is a supportiveness and camaraderie there that is amazing to behold. But the burden of dealing with horrible diseases and the uncertainty of the ultimate outcome just seems to bear down on a person’s soul and it shows in their eyes.

Ken’s treatments were all-day long ordeals, once every three weeks. He had his first treatment in the hospital. Dr. Schlabach had told us that in about 14 days or so, Ken would probably start to lose his hair. Exactly 14 days later, when I was making the bed, I found huge clumps of Ken's hair left on his pillow. I sobbed and sobbed as I picked up each strand. I couldn’t bear to throw it away. I loved his hair with all of those beautiful curls. I placed the hair in a ziploc bag and put it away in my dresser. I still have it–I had forgotten about it, but found it again when the boys and I moved to Alabama. I sobbed again when I found it. . . still couldn’t bear to part with it. It’s in the cedar chest now.

I think Ken losing his hair was harder on me than it was on him. Before he lost his hair, except for dark circles around his eyes, he didn’t really look that sick. When his hair came out, there was no denying how sick he was. Eventually, he was completely bald and his beard was gone. It was the first time I had ever seen his whole face because he had always had the beard as long as I had known him.

The chemo didn’t make Ken really sick like it does a lot of people. It did make him extremely tired, but I think a lot of that was simply the stress of having to go for the treatment. And, as long as he was having chemo, we had to go back once a week so they could check his blood. Just being at Dr. Schlabach’s office, where the chemo lab was located, always tied Ken up in knots. I guess the worst reaction he had to the chemo, though, was really from the pre-meds. One of them was a steroid, and it affected my sweet, even-tempered husband by making him angry and mean. You could almost bet that the night after a chemo treatment, Ken would be screaming at me about something. I knew it was the medicine, and he was always very contrite and apologetic afterwards, but those nights just ground my weary soul down to dust. I SOOO dreaded chemo days.