So, P and I have differnt metaphors for this.  I’m fighting, she’s riding the range rounding up li’l wayward doggies.  I’m on  search and destroy mission.  So my take on chemo is a little bit different too.

Mainlining big bags of toxic stuff, that incidently causes you to empty your guts out, and loose your hair, probably will cause premature menopause, and might diminish your hearts ability to pump — is scary.

Yes, the staff at the Cancer Center are top notch.  The facilities are really nice.  But, it looks to me like we are in for 8 weeks of flu, on a 2 week cycle.  I can tell you that the week we were waiting for results from the PT scan I was in full Fight/Flight mode.   People bringing me their penny ante horse shit don’t know how close they were to having me rip their heads off and crap down their necks.  Well I’m not to that place yet with Chemo, but, I anticipate it could get there.

I’m struggling to articulate the spouses experience of this….  Sure fear is part of it, but, more just not being in control of much.  Kinda like the guy on the front of the sled on the luge run — hang on fool.   Basically, Chemo sucks, and my job is to just keep things going, Soccer, Jujitsu, Scouts, and school.  I guess an apt metaphor is some sort of draft animal, oxen, or mule, you pull cause there is something that has to be moved.  Perhaps, the Cow girl trope is more apt than I knew.  There is something more svelt about a cutting pony than an ox — maybe I should just go along with the G.D.O. Cow Girl — alas, folks, who know me, probably would see through that.  An ox in horse’s clothing as it were.