Waiting for Godot but this one will come

As this is my first and hopefully last encounter with chemo I feel a bit like the Bechkett's protagonists in Waiting for Godot. Only in my case Godot will come. Being a total neophyte in the matter, I did arm myself with all the knowledge possible about the side effects of chemo a.k.a chemchow (to make it less scary) and for this post Godot. The nausea, the weight loss, the hair loss, the blisters in the mouth, the fatigue, the tingling, the loss of sensation, the loss of appetite, the fever and God knows what else. And just like Vladimir an Estragon, I too need to divert myself to hold the terrible silence at bay! I do not have a pal to swats hats with and will not in anyway consider suicide, but I sleep, argue, stomp on the treadmill, listen to loud music, browse the shelves of my favourite book shop, peruse the net for more information: will Godot come on the 4th, 10th or whatever day.

The waiting is endless and killing. I even find myself puling at Ranjan's hair to see if it will come in my hands. I meticulously record all he eats, and how he feels in carefully designed charts. helps pass time. But time drags its feet. There are 175 more days to go. 4200 hours. 100 080 minutes! True they will interspersed with visits to doctors and hospitals, tests and more waiting for the results, moments of celebrations when things look good, stellar performance when things look bad so that the face does not show the disappointment. The list is endless but still does not fill the hours and minutes when you are left with just waiting.

I guess I will have to be prolific during these days and not have a writer's block!