Chemotherapy is torture. I’m not a scientist so there is no good answer within my intellectual reach but in dark moments one wonders why, in 2025, are we still poisoning people like this?
It’s so easy to indulge in grim thoughts when the side effects are at their worst but it is no joke that navigation of this illness is a journey to be taken literally one day at a time. It’s liberating in a way and I’m not the first woman to say that, in our chaotic world, being forced to live in the moment is a sort of healing process of its own.
However, in the absence of a tolerable medical solution, cancer patients are taught to lean on faith, keep hope alive, and to practice gratitude. With varying degrees of success, I’ve taken that advice to heart and it being Thanksgiving week, I’ve chosen to mine my journal and report for you on the latter.
So in no particular order, and in addition to life itself, I am eternally grateful this year for the following: Daisy purring in my lap, Connor, Mike, Kelly, coffee with Amy and Ren, Miralax, my walking pad and vibration plate, Wellbutrin, yoga, grocery delivery, You Tube Premium, meditation, almond butter and bananas, Xanax, Pinterest, ginger in any form, mashed potatoes, saltine crackers, lemonade, and night toast.
There are other bonuses. Since I am immunocompromised, we cannot be in ‘super spreader’ situations so large family get togethers this season are out of the question. Not that I dislike my extended family, but Mike, Connor and I will be spending a quiet Thursday with movies and a charcuterie board. After fourteen treatments and seventy-six doctor appointments since May, I am so looking forward to the holidays. These simple plans have made me realize there is one lesson I’ve learned this year that stands out among the others. I’ve learned how to be thankful in advance.