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Saturday, August 17, 2013

Smooth towels


The old crackly ones were always my favourites. The way they would tickle my body, removing any remaining cells that didn’t belong. It was the best form of exfoliation – so much better than all those products with little exfoliating bits in them and fake scents that they charged way too much for. All you need is a nice, old crusty towel.

Those newer towels were always last left in our clean towel pile. They just didn’t feel good; they didn’t itch itches or exfoliate skin in a delightful way. And to make matters worse, they always felt wet straight away. Gross.

Then, there are some towels that are rough on one side, smooth on the other.

I used the smooth side today, and even those annoyingly-wet-feeling smooth fibres seemed to grate and cut my skin, making me scrunch my eyes a little and once again, silently swallow the pain.

That’s what the chemo has done lately. It’s made me make drastic life changes like changing to soft towels. It’s made sitting on the toilet become something that makes me gasp, despite needing to do it more often. My arms shake as I lever myself out of bed in the morning.

And the other day, it won. I was beat, as I woke after a sleepless night covered in itchy red rashes. I finally gave in and took a day off class. The nurse had no idea why, but wasn’t surprised. Nothing is surprising with chemotherapy. It does as it pleases.

The rashes have gone away now, but I now understand what creates the air of sympathy and pity that surrounds chemo.

Chemotherapy will soon be viewed as archaic, and people will no longer have to go through it. Doctors will remorsefully admit they administered it, and people like me will be regarded as some of chemotherapy’s last victims.

I have always been a dreamer, and tended to change my life plan every few months and be passionately pursuing it until the new idea. Perhaps I need to dream again, to make a plan. But to be honest, even to remain a functioning member of society takes effort and so I just have to focus on getting through this, day by day, moment by moment.

And I just have to suck it up use the smooth towels, for now. 

Monday, August 5, 2013

"Side Effects"


Keyboard letters came so easily to me when I typed. Typing is a sign of the worlds privileged in itself, I suppose. It just come so naturally to ...us. 

I remember sitting on our ragged couch in Togo with Ro’s cousin showing him the magical way a key pressed on one surface will make a little black letter appear on another surface.

Reminded of this now as I type, I realize that I took this ability for granted, my fingers searching for the letters they don’t always find.

The chemo has been going well. I am bright most days. I am doing well at my course, keeping ahead. 

I am also currently hunched over my laptop in pain, typing slowly with slow fingers that spend their days tingling, and about to go to bed at 8.15pm, exhausted.

I’m humbled that you would read my little black dots on a screen.

Good night,

B