The Doom and Gloom of Chemo

So, you want to know my eighteen weeks of chemo story? Well, I am here to tell it. I am sure everyone that has had to go through this process has different views on it. I know folks before me have shared their journey down this road, and I got to hear some as I ran into folks at the rest stops along the way — and it was not enjoyable. Technically, I am just completing week sixteen of the eighteen, but I feel I can pretty much predict the final two weeks, so why not let it rip now?

My first day of Chemo Class was back in January. January 6th, 2025, to be exact. It was a big day in my life and one I had purposely postponed for a bit. You see, the Doc wanted me to enroll back in December, but I wasn’t ready then. I wanted to spend Christmas without the nasty old side effects that I was told chemo would come with. I didn’t want my family to put up with it either. Christmas — now of course this is the new and improved Mike talking — is about family and celebration, and I didn’t want to ruin that for anyone. Looking back, other than the fact I would be past the entire eighteen weeks, I am happy with that decision.

Let’s explore this road. Chemo Drive, I will call it. Everyone buckle up, and away we go.

My trip started the day before the actual class. I was figuring out all the prep work that I needed to get done before that first day. My oldest son jumped in and helped me out. I was needing that first day of Chemo picture — you know the one — where we got our new outfit on, stand right outside the house with a big poopy grin for the camera, but really scared to death because we are getting ready to be thrust into a new environment we have no idea about. Yes, that very first day of big boy school.

Anyways, with the help of Scott, I got that picture done and proudly posted for all to see. Yep, that’s right — we staged it the night before. No way in hell he was going to get up and do it that following morning.

I had already decided that I was going to be the class clown. I knew how to be that guy. I had paid attention during orientation, and I knew my classmates were going to be a bit of a drag. It was understandable, but it wasn’t going to be what I wanted.

I went to that first day with my “Who wants to play Duck, Duck, Goose” shirt on, and I wore it proudly. I sat right in the middle of the room with my big chest out waiting for the game to begin — OK, sunken chest, big belly might make you see the scene better.

Turns out my first day of class was a disaster — complete failure, I mean horrible. Not the first person wanted to play, hell, not the first person even grinned or inquired what the game was. I was devastated.

I left that first day of class having to rethink my entire approach to day two — the shot I had to take twenty-four hours after the fuel injection. I knew right then that this class was going to suck. I even went as far as to inquire at the admissions office if it was too late to change my schedule and was sadly informed it was. Instead of the class clown, I was going to be the class castaway.

I went home, and after some thought, I decided if I wasn’t going to be able to aggravate my classmates, I would shift over to the administration. I quickly discovered this was the move. They knew how to enjoy the day and love life, and day two made me smile and look forward to class each day.

Chemo class is very predictable. Whatever schedule you receive is stuck to strictly. My particular class was a simple three-week system that would last six sessions. I was fed all the information for each three-week period in twenty-four hours and then would be tested weekly to see how I was progressing.

After being fed the information, I was sent home to figure it all out by myself. If I passed my weekly test — was really never told exactly what my test grades were — I would be told to come back in a week to be tested again and not really ever find out my exact score. I quickly just decided if I was sent home after testing and told to come back next week, I was at least passing.

Ok, enough with the bullpoop on how I approached chemo class from the beginning. Let’s get to the reality of getting through this whole thing.

I was given a road map — the "Waze" of chemo, let’s say. In typical Waze fashion, it highlighted all the traffic, folks stranded on the side of the road, and the blue lights all over the place waiting to make life just miserable.

I looked at it and said, "Well poop, here we go," and I followed the map and remembered everything they told me that was going to happen in orientation.

Now, I will share the journey. Every miserable pothole and bump this nasty-ass dirty road has.

My regular agenda was:

• Fuel up

• Fall in a ditch

• Get back on the main road and up to speed

• Realize you need gas

• Fuel up

• Drive it in the ditch again

• Recover

• Wham, out of gas again

This repeats itself four more times.

Yo, DUDE, stop! Would you just quit and explain how miserable and awful this whole class and process was so I can get back to work and not get caught reading this crap?

Ok, if that’s what you want — here I go…

I met the other side of my folks that make them really good people.
I repaired a ton of broken relationships.
I started a website and a vision — may turn out to be only my vision — but I got it rolling.
I discovered the meaning of the dollar.
I opened myself up to the world.
I had coffee meetings with folks I never thought I would.
I learned to listen to folks and hear their journeys and make them more important than mine.
I learned how to take help from folks and understand it wasn’t pity but true care and want.
I discovered I have a wife and a family that will go out of their way for me.
I started to get my poop organized.
I learned that what other folks think of me isn’t an issue — only what I think of me matters.
I played the game I loved when I should have been at home doing the poor pitiful me routine.
I got up every damn day and told anyone that wanted to hear it, “Good Morning.”
I did everything in my power to tell the administration and the crew over at chemo to take their curriculum and shove it up their ass.
I battled the whole weird sleep pattern.
I ate cheese toast like it was a ribeye steak.
I started a clothing business — not one that works yet — but I started it.
I had more conversations with Penthouse Dude than I had in the past forty years.
I smiled and told everyone I was just fine and asked, “How are you today?”
I slipped and fell into my old world a time or two but stuck with those situations until I got it right.
I just kept moving forward every single day.

Of course… chemo came with everything they told me in orientation.
The huge dive down the pooper, just like they said.
A lot of aches and pains.
Losing all my hair — which really sucked above my eyes and in my nose.
The three or four days where you just want to tell everyone to kiss your ass.
The mood swings, the anger, the “I am done with this crap… I am dropping out.”

Poop — turns out that was the piece-of-cake part of chemo for me and doesn’t even matter at this point.

I accomplished more during chemo upstairs with Penthouse Dude, Thig, Twig, and myself than I have my whole life — and if I have to do chemo again to keep that going (really hoping I don’t have to), but if I did…

SIGN ME UP!

You want the doom and gloom of chemo?
I know a place where you can get it — I got classmates that will hook you right up.
You’re not going to get it from me.

Thanks for all the support, folks.
Without you… I probably would have been just like them.

A New and Improved Simple Man