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  • Writer's pictureA. Murphy

It's the final chemo! (off-key kazoo)

(The title should only be said to the tune of 'The Final Countdown')


My last round of chemo, all I could think of was how close I was to being done. I was hoping that this round would be as uneventful as my last one. When I say uneventful, I mean that I didn't suffer any side effects, I still wanted visitors and hey when they turned up with chocolate that wasn't so bad. However, I just wanted to get through it. Not that it was particularly bad but it wasn't the ideal living situation. Something people are learning right now with the lockdown. Imagine being in lockdown but in a single room. You have food and a bathroom and everything you need, but you cannot leave the room. It really gets to you.


By now I was bringing up collections of DVDs, lots of food, games and things to not only entertain myself but my nurses as well (I'm a people pleaser) and if I could make their work day a bit brighter then why not. That first night I was all settled in so I treated myself to a tiny pack of sweets that my dad have given me. These were left overs from his time as Santa at my work. He always plays Santa and brings a sack full of little presents (usually sweets) to hand out to the children. It was my little reward for going back up to chemo again. It was not a good idea. Just before I got ready for bed I was, most unfortunately, sick.


(Be warned I talk a lot about vomit here)


I don't throw up often, so this was a surprise. There wasn't even time for me to get off my bed and move to the sink that was almost right next to it. It was all over my clothes, my sheets, and it also got on my lovely handmade quilt my mum made me. All in all it was disgusting. My nurses came in to give me my evening pills only a second later, and I had to tell them what had happened. You can't exactly hide the fact that there's vomit everywhere. Very kindly they changed my bedding and gave me a plastic bag to put my quilt and dirty clothes in (so my dad could pick it up the next day). To this day I'm still very bitter about those sweets.


After that nothing of note happened. Unless you count someone ordering six pizzas from Dominoes on my very last day. It was great. They were all laid out on the pool table and we could help ourselves.


That's not to say it wasn't a breeze. I did struggle with it more mentally. Even my mum noticed that I seemed particularly grumpy. There were even a few moments when I simply broke down in tears. It was hard, a so close yet so far situation.


I truly cannot think of anything else that happened during that last treatment. I suppose they changed the menu, after I had managed to memorise the old too. But hey I won't complain when sticky toffee pudding becomes available.

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