2001 | Trying to Live Through Chemo Side-Effects with Humour and Endurance

Chemotherapy caused me a lot of side-effects. Fortunately, most faded after treatment ended; others lingered a while longer. We consoled ourselves with saying “this too shall pass” and learnt to live through it with humour.

The terrible nausea was not the only, nor the worst, of the side effects. Hanging over the toilet bowl for half the night, dry heaving until the throat muscles go into a spasm, and the stomach muscles protested with rolling cramps, was no walk in the park. But nothing beats the paralysing fatigue. In between the bouts of nausea, I sometimes fell asleep in weird positions; on my knees with my head in the bowl, being the most uncomfortable. And then, by the time the nausea passed, because eventually it did pass, insomnia stepped in and kept me awake for hours.

I remember waking up one morning after another chemo session, totally exhausted, so tired that I could not get out of bed. Karen brought me a cup of rooibos tea without milk, the only sustenance that I could stomach so soon after a chemo session. I remember telling her that losing my hair was something I was grateful for, as today I’m just too tired to pick up a hairbrush.

Hair loss due to the treatment was to be expected. What I did not expect was the way I totally fell apart when, after the second treatment session, I lost all my hair in one go while showering.

I got out of bed early to shower because the pungent chemical smell had permeated my skin, pyjamas, and bedding. I turned on the tap, and the scent of the shampoo in my hair almost took my breath away. It reeked of bleach and disinfectant. I pinched my nose shut between thumb and forefinger and opened the taps all the way. For a minute or two, I just stood there enjoying the feel of the warm water on my skin, until I suddenly realised that something was wrong. The water felt thick and slimy, and the level began to rise around my feet. I looked down and saw a sea of hair. A quick rub over my head immediately confirmed my worst fears; all my hair was gone. I was completely bald, except for a few stubborn hairs sprouting from my itchy scalp.

I dried off and, with just my bath towel wrapped around me, went looking for my children. They stared at me in complete shock for a moment, then Karen disappeared into the bathroom to clear the carpet of hair from the shower floor. Corné sat me down at the dining room table and used an electric hair cutter to shave off the remaining tufts of hair.

Nobody spoke a word at first, but then panic set in, and my baldness became the main topic of conversation for the rest of the weekend. I had no wig. I flatly refused to wear one. By Monday, I faced going to work completely bald. Karen solved the problem at the last moment with a fashionable black hat decorated with a butterfly clip. I was to wear the pride and joy of her teenage wardrobe for the next few months. I never bought a wig, and for many months, an assortment of butterflies merrily bounced on my hat until my hair eventually grew back.

Chemo affected my sense of smell in countless ways. Although this improved during the years, there are still certain smells I cannot stand, like the smell of a certain brand of shampoo we used at the time of treatment, which still triggers a bout of nausea. That kind of shampoo will forever be banned from my home. Then there are smells I cannot pick up at all, like the faint smell of flowers and herbs in the garden. We refer to this defect as “mum's broken nose”.

While receiving chemotherapy, I noticed a lump forming in one of the veins on the inside of my left arm where the IVs were inserted during treatment. The oncologist reassured me that this lump, which had formed from the harsh chemicals being administered, would dissolve over time. It did, in fact, disappear after a few weeks, but the corded vein remained hard and tender for quite a few months. One of my colleagues at work advised me to massage my arm with arnica oil, which I diligently did every night after my shower. Eventually, the vein regained some of its former elasticity, but there remains some tenderness, especially noticeable when the weather turns cold. And my children still hate the smell of arnica oil.

Chemo also affected my taste buds over the short term. Everything tasted like cardboard, and I completely lost my appetite. I made up for this after the treatment, regaining all the lost kilos in record time. However, there are certain kinds of food that I no longer find tasty. I think it has a lot to do with my diminished sense of smell.

The oncologist, who knew I loved swimming and hiking, made it clear from the start that I must always protect my skin from sunburn during chemotherapy. I was only too happy to comply because I've had quite enough cancer to deal with, and skin cancer on top of that was not one of my goals. By the time we moved to the coast years later, I had completely forgotten about this advice, and we were in the sun all day. As far as I can tell, there were no long-term effects from the sun, but these days I am a bit more careful, and I cover up, even for just a short walk in our garden or a quick dip in the pool.

Another lingering side effect is a tendency to feel the cold. Even in the mildest weather, you will find me wearing a knitted sweater or a jacket. My children used to claim that their mother is a reptile. Not so long ago, my oncologist confirmed in my daughter’s presence that this can be a long-term side effect of the chemotherapy. When he said that, I did the adult thing and poked my tongue out at her. This winter, they installed a wall-mounted electric heater in my room, kept my gas bottle filled for my small heater, and I received a new electric blanket. I take all this as a well-deserved apology.

AI illustration of a woman suffering from the side effects of chemotherapy treatment, notably hair loss, nausea, headache, and fatigue.