Today I learned that if I throw up on my clothes in the first forty-eight hours after receiving chemotherapy, I am to put them in a plastic bag and bring them to the cancer centre, where they will burn them.
I am not making that up.
Chemotherapy is very scary stuff.
On March 9 and every third Thursday thereafter, I will spend at least three hours in the chemotherapy room, being infused with a toxic cocktail. Then, after a break of a couple of weeks, I will be radiated every Monday to Friday for five weeks.
Being a cancer patient is a full-time job.
I had a fitness test done at the gym at the cancer centre yesterday (every cancer patient gets a free life-time membership). I am in excellent shape, despite my post-surgery inactivity. This made me feel very good.