November 21, 2012

Chemo continues

So what is chemo like? Well I'm having a hard time finding the right words for it. I think most of us  would describe it as flu-like but that doesn't exactly cover it. It's worse. It's a black hole. You are very aware of the fact it's taking over your body and even your mind. It's heavy. It feels like the end of the world and you're never going to be able to crawl out of that black hole ever again.


Six or seven days later.. you're doing better. Just like that. It's crazy; you're eating Dutch kale and pizza again. Or chocolate chip muffins your friend brought by! Your state of mind changes. Every now and then even the sun starts to shine again.

But of course in the back of your mind you know it's not over and you have to prepare for the next round. My first chemo I was scheduled for a double room. But because of some trouble they had that morning I hit jack pot and got to stay in the room suitable for five people. The whole experience was so overwhelming. The nurses running around. All the beeping infusions. Ringing alarm clocks. I hated it.

The radiation treatment place and the breast cancer department at my hospital were both renovated places. The atmosphere was warm and peaceful. Everything chemo department is NOT. I'm going to bring my iPod next time. Dive into my own little world.

Next time on She Still Dreams in Colour: hair loss.


  1. I've thought a lot about you today, dear. I've been meaning to message you about a project that I sort of stepped onto: the 365Grateful. I saw it and my second thought, after 'I have to do this' was 'this would be a good thing to brighten up Cécile's days'.

    So apparently, an australian lady who suffered from depression was advised to look for something to be grateful for, every single day. She started to photograph those things with a polaroid camera and it became a huge program. You can check it out at

    I'm not rich, so I'm doing it with my phone instead of my polaroid camera, but it made me think of you. It's just something I think might help you stay positive, even when the motherfucker (yes, I'm calling it that) is still in the back of your mind. I don't know. I don't know if you're in the mood for it, or if you think it's something you can worry about right now. I just saw it and thought of you.

    I hope your days until the next chemo are good, dear, and that your body accepts it as well as possible next time. :)

    Stay strong!

    1. Hi Ana! Thank you so much for your sweet comments! It really means a lot to me. My Teleidoscope project is ending at the end of this year.. so I'm going to have to check out that website you mentioned, it sounds interesting! Although I might not always feel like it, it might bring me some positivity! I'll check it out, thanks hun!

  2. I am thankful that you are getting the treatment needed. As hard as it is I know how strong you are and that you are more of a badass than cancer. Smile beauitful Cecil you are amazing!

  3. Lieve Ciel,
    Wat fijn te lezen dat je je steeds weer wat beter voelt! Geniet van alle fijne dingen nu dat kan :)

    Ik wens je alvast heel veel kracht en moed voor #2
    en natuurlijk voor 'het-kaal-worden-proces'...