Yesterday I had my 12th of what are so far supposed to be 16 treatments since last October. Then, last night, I barfed up my dinner. It's not the first time I've thrown up since beginning cancer treatment, but it was the first time caused by the chemo.
While overall, my side effects haven't been as bad as I might have expected, chemo does feel something like a slow, slow piledriver. Every couple of weeks, I get hammered down. And while my recovery time is pretty quick, each blow pushes me a bit further down. I finally decided to shave my head, for instance, because my hair was just shedding too much.
But, you know, my wife is making butter chicken for dinner, plus cupcakes for her and the kids. And today, I don't feel like I'm going to barf up anything at all. That's progress.