There’s a carpet-like pathway leading from me to the bathroom. It’s made of towels. There’s a big bowl waiting next to the toilet. I’m starting to feel good.
It’s hard to explain this, but, well, having this killer stomach flu allows me to feel strength in my body. I can feel my body attacking whatever it is that’s bothering it in my gut — and winning.
Stomach flu is better than even my best post-chemo session, despite all of the great anti-nausea drugs. Now that I’m looking back at all of this, I’m horrified at what my body has been through. My inner ear could hear every fiber in my body recoil from chemo. I could feel each cell gag on the toxins and hopelessly try to spit it all out.
My body would ooze chemo smells.
Now, I’m just sick!
I kid you not, as I was making my offerings to the porcelain God, I was giving THANKS for this experience. I took some pleasure in the effort of my body to heal itself. I would look at the clock and feel delight, knowing that in 12 hours, I would feel so much better.
OK, I am tired. But I’m at day ten past chemo — and I’m feeling that turn where my body starts getting stronger rather than weaker.