Tuesday, December 22, 2009


I hate it when I can taste the chemo. I can taste it in my mouth and on my tongue, and I can feel it in my stomach. It hurts. I can smell it on my breath and escaping through my pores, and I can feel it oozing out of my eyeballs. At the corners, they're welling up, but not in the shape of tears. I don't want to taste it. And I can't sleep. I can never fall asleep.

I regretted doing this the last time I did it. But what is there to regret? I don't have a reason to regret. Not tonight. I just feel like a fool for trying to find meaning where there is none. At least not right now. Maybe I'll find it tomorrow.

1 comment:

  1. Your description of the shape of your tears seems right to me. Thank you for putting words to your experience of chemo. I've always had a felt sense of how bad that would feel in my body. And you are naming it.

    Our daughter is a writing major. Her favorite professor tells her, don't just write, live your life, and then write about that. Because of this, she's not headed to grad school in writing. You've found a channel for making your very difficult, even horrendous, chemo/cancer experience tangible through your writing. Though difficult to bear, you make it possible for me to connect to it through your writing.

    There's not much meaning sometimes, just getting by.

    I want to hear about it when your taste gets normal again. Thanks for expanding my experience through your writing.