So I saw the movie “Dawn of the Dead” yesterday. Now it wasn’t so much that I was scared of ZOMBIES per se, but I found myself laying awake last night contemplating the much more likely fundamental breakdown of civilization itself. Whatever the cause, zombie or otherwise, I couldn’t get over the thought of being besieged by the very end of humanity. I stayed up all night, planning and re-planning what to do in case today was the end of the world. I worked out a rationing plan, where to get supplies, how to barricade myself inside our apartment, and even how to round up others from the building to aid in our quest for survival.

Around the time I started working out which people in my apartment building I would most want to help and whom I would throw off the roof, I decided this event was verging on insanity and promptly stopped. Unfortunately by this point the Sun had started to rise. Oddly enough I found myself hoping a zombie would bust my door down so I wouldn’t have to get up and go to work.

I think my anxiety is taking over. Can you tell?

Mood: Aaah! Boogie man

Had my first chemo treatment today. Can’t say it was the worst experience of my life, comparing both physical and emotional traumas throughout the years. The nausea started about three hours ago, and every time I lie down the little voice in my head goes “AVAST! Yeee scurvy dogs! Brace for impact!” (if I have never mentioned it to you, my little voice is a pirate).

But at least I don’t have to go to work tomorrow. And I’m peeing ORANGE (the colour of the chemo medicine. I asked for blue, but they said they were out)! I thought of taking a photo of some kind to commemmorate the occurance, but the logistics of peeing and photographing at the same time elude me right now. I’d ask for help…but man…peeing orange is weird enough as it is.

Mood: ORANGE!

This week has been all about learning new boundaries. Things that you’d think were pretty trivial are now huge obstacles. My body reacts differently in almost any given situation. I can’t eat the same, I can’t sleep the same. I can’t even walk the same. I have no less than twelve purscriptions; some I take after chemo, some before, some all the time, and I have four lines of defence against nausea and digestion issues. It’s been a long week of figuring out what works and what doesn’t and trying in vain to settle into a new routine.

The one thing that’s become very apparent is that I am no longer in control. I don’t like that. I’ve always been able to control myself and my life and figure out the cause and effect in any given situation. If I have a migraine headache or stomach cramps, it’s probably because I ate or drank something I shouldn’t have. Now I struggle to maintain the most basic daily routine, and I find myself losing the more I go.

The worst part is, this is only the beginning. The first treatment is never the worst, it’s almost always a few treatments in that you really start to be affected by it. I’ve got 7 more treatments over the next 23 weeks, and I doubt I’ll be able to maintain this pace for very long. Short Term Disability is definately going to have to be considered. If the past week is any kind of warning for what’s coming over the next 6 months, I’m in a lot of trouble.

Mood: Confiscated.

My salad dressing container was leaking on the bus to work this morning. All I could smell was greek dressing. I was getting some odd looks from other people. I wanted to scream out “Yes! I bathe myself in SALAD DRESSING every morning! What’s it to you!!” but I managed to keep my cool.

Mood: ZESTY!

High School is like New Year’s Eve. You look forward to it for a long time, and you enjoy it while it’s there. But when it’s all over you can’t help but feel like it wasn’t quite as important or meaninful as you’d originally thought it to be.

Mood: Pensive!