chemo cocoon

It sounds like almost an aberration but seems like chemotherapy has been almost cocoon like for both Ranjan and I, and I guess others in the family and friends network. For the past 5 months we have been living in the 'false' comfort of chemo cycles. You see chemo has a timeline with an end in sight i.e the last chemo. Not so long back this last chemo looked far away, like a light at the end of a long tunnel and as we all trudged along willingly or unwillingly, there was a feeling that we were doing something right even if it had too many downsides. Cancer cells were being attacked and killed. Never mind the healthy cells that had to be slaughtered at the holy alter of conventional medicine. We all thought that the butterfly would break out once this nightmare was over. But that is not to be.

As the last chemo day approaches I am conscious of the fact that the cocoon season is not over and I must be careful to ensure that the cocoon matures fully before it morphs into a beautiful butterfly. That means that the body has to rest and recuperate before it can fly.

So December 27th is not the end of the tunnel but the beginning of a new one. It could be a wider one with more light, but tunnel it has to be till the cocooning time is over. Till now the word chemo was almost like a magic wand that called us to order any and every time the thought of digressing a little from the tight and unforgiving schedule. The idea of having a chemo delayed because of an infection was so scary that it took care of any want or even need. There was something strangely comforting about the chemo schedule.

Ranjan and I lost ourselves into the chemo routine and had some very emotional and touching moments. We never felt closer. At times, particularly on chemo day or the day after, Ranjan was so vulnerable that he almost felt like a little child that needed to be tended to and comforted. I spent many nights touching his brow to make sure that the dreaded fever had not raised its ugly face. As he slept next to me, I felt responsible for his well being and helpless when I could do nothing to make things easier. Then there were the days when he felt better and my heart swelled with love and pride. As we mentally checked each chemo off the calendar, a sense of elation filled us both and we talked about the end of the road.

But soon the chemo cocoon will be over. It will have to be replaced by another regimen that will have to be given a comforting name. This new normal that we have to work out together has to be able to assuage all the unsaid fears that will soon assail us if we are not watchful and prepared.