So this is what my first chemotherapy was like:
- it started at 9:30 pm with one chemical drip into my heart after another
- by 4:30 am, we had finished dripping 3 chemicals and I was connected to the last one, which would drip for 46 hours
- I "woke up" 3 hours later, feeling like I had been hit by a truck. And, a moment later, I realized that there was a live seagull inside me, frantically flapping his wings trying to escape
- there was only one thing clear to me: that I cannot and should not try to fight this. So I turned myself into a tiny ball, put on eye mask and ear plugs, started my deepest yoga breathing and accepted it all, the pain, the seagull, the nausea, the fear, all.
- I thought I opened my eyes one hour later: it was actually 5 hours later! The angry seagull had turned into a flock of butterflies. There was no longer an elephant sitting on my head - merely a vice gripping my temples. And: I could move!
- I told myself: "do things that normal people do. Brush your teeth. Turn on your phone. Open the curtains. Look outside the window."
- and, then, gradually and beautifully and mysteriously, life started coming back and in 4 hours, when David got to the hospital straight from Buenos Aires "to spoil you for 24 hours", I actually had pants on and shoes, and we checked in at a great hotel and even had a stroll and dinner. All the while carrying my 46-hour drip along, drip-drip-dripping straight into my heart.
- and I felt that life once again was flowing through my body