During my pre-chemo checkup this past week, Dr. Bouncy chirped on about how the last round of chemo was probably bad because it was killing cancer cells and that was causing toxins from the cancer to poison the system, and that meant that this round of chemo would probably be better.
I should have smacked him around a bit while he was within reach.
It was not the cancer cells poisoning the system. It was the chemo drugs poisoning the system. This round is kicking my butt big time. I'm nauseous, I'm bleeding, I'm exhausted, and I'm in pain. And it's going to get worse with each round. Two more to go, before switching to something else that will make me feel crappy in a different way.
And this is better than the cancer how?
It would be one thing, I suppose, if there was some hope - however vague and unlikely - that doing this might cure me, or bring me another decade of decent quality life. Even a few years of decent quality life.
But that is not on the table. The only time I will be off chemo from here on in is when I decide I can't take it any more, that death would be preferable. Or when chemo doesn't work at all, and death becomes inevitable. Or when the chemo itself kills me.
Whichever comes first.
Sometimes a good attitude is just impossible to muster. Sometimes I can't remember why I should even bother trying to muster it.
I'll try to muster it tomorrow. But for today, I just can't.