As the nurses at the center where I received my six chemo treatments were endlessly repeating in response to all my questions, “Everyone’s different.” I’m convinced that they got it at least half wrong. I think the similarities will outweigh the differences in the end. We all suffered - all the patients in the center, some frail in their wheelchairs, some stronger but with skin reactions that turned their complexions a ferocious maroon, some who remained determinedly cheerful throughout the process. And the cranky, patient from hell that was me, furious at having my questions dismissed and evaded, purposefully doped up for every treatment after the first one doubled me over for more than an hour, screaming in mindless agony with the worst lower abdominal pain (or any other pain) I’d ever experienced in my life. And my sister, who called daily to cheer me on and tell me how well I was doing, how it would be over so soon. And my husband, who was more patient and supportive than I thought any human being capable of. And continues to be.

I know there’s a lot of stories out there marginally like mine, and I plan to read each and every one that someone took the time and energy to post on this site.

Endless thanks and best wishes to all,
Dawn