Today I was sitting outside of the house sipping coffee with a vacant expression on my face and Sapana suggested I write another update here. I underwent my first cycle of chemotherapy this week and Sapana said that I should consider sharing how I am physically feeling; not from the safe perspective of a matter-of-fact clinician but rather from that of an actual patient. This makes me feel incredibly vulnerable but hey, isn’t that what cancer does to someone?

Hanging out in a chemotherapy suite is not an entirely unpleasant experience. When you have two children that are generally operating at an 11 out of 10, sitting in a chair reading a book and eating Shake Shack for a couple of hours isn’t so bad. Having said that, leaving MSK with a fanny pack around my waist containing a self-deflating balloon of a cytotoxic medication hooked up to a port in my chest was not particularly a hoot.

The most anxiety-inducing part of this phase has been learning about possible side effects of the treatment and then waiting to see what my body actually experiences, all the while knowing that the status quo can and will change with each cycle. Here are a few things that have sucked so far:

• a zap down the jaw when taking an initial bite of food
• insomnia from steroids (though only one night)
• watching my wife braise short ribs all day because I said “I need some protein” and then subsequently having zero desire to eat anything other than crackers
• being intimidated by a glass of ice water (cold sensitivity is in fact a thing)

Ultimately, the week has not been all that bad. Maybe the worst part has been the time spent in my own head feeling sorry for myself. But a number of people that have gone or are going through similar circumstances tell me that these times too shall pass. It is now a beautiful Thursday afternoon, and in the words of one Pete the Cat, the sun is shining, the sky is bright, the birds are singing, I’m feeling alright.