Chemotherapy Narrative

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Tamara Murphy English comp. Professor Page Narrative Essay Sept. 15, 2013 Chemotherapy?? I sat motionless, staring at the gaudily bright patterned chair to my right. Occasionally I would shift my gaze to the glass coffee table in front of me, strewn with magazines and informative pamphlets. I could feel the frosty December chill seeping in through the window behind me. But I didn’t shiver, I couldn’t. I couldn’t move any part of my body. It felt as though someone had just placed a thousand pound blanket over me, and I was rooted to the spot. My mind was like a skydiver whose parachute failed to open, and was freefalling to the ground. I tried to force myself to listen as the doctor spoke. But my fragmented mind could…show more content…
We laughed until we both had tears streaming down our cheeks. And even though neither of us said it out loud, I think we both knew they were tears of laughter, mixed with tears of terror, at what lay before her. Three weeks later on a cold January morning the dreaded Chemo began. She was scheduled for seven rounds of chemotherapy. Monday and Tuesday, every three weeks we made the long ride to Grand Rapids, to spend eight excruciatingly long hours each day at the Lemon Holt Cancer Center. A lovely place really. Very Peaceful, and serene. There was a beautiful flowering garden in one corner that extended all the way up to the third floor. In the lobby there was a soothing water wall. I spent many hours staring at the flowing water, and listening to the gentle sounds trying to occupy my mind. Trying not to think about the woman upstairs that barely resembled my Mom. Not think about how thin she had become, or how sick she was going to be in another two or three days from the toxic brew of drugs they were pumping into her. All in the hopes of killing some microscopic cells that had invaded her body like an unwanted, unwelcome guest.

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