They wanted to try this outpatient chemo, and I said no problem. I was adamant. I didn't want to miss any games. It's where I'm supposed to be, and I wanted to be there.
Sentiment: POSITIVE
The chemotherapy was very peculiar, something that makes you feel much worse than the cancer itself, a very nasty thing. I used to go to treatment on my own, and nearly everybody else was with somebody. I wouldn't have liked that. Why would you want to make anybody sit in those places?
I did grieve a bit when I wasn't having the chemo anymore. I was used to sitting in the little chair and then the nurse would come and do it. It was like that was your job for that long and it was reassuring.
Chemotherapy isn't easy. I felt very fortunate I wouldn't have to go through that.
For most people, chemotherapy is no longer the chamber of horrors we often conceive it to be. Yes, it is an ordeal for some people, but it wasn't for me, nor for most of the patients I got to know during my four months of periodic visits to the chemo suite.
I'm hanging in there, trying to spend as much quality time with my wife and kids as possible, and though it's very frustrating to know I won't beat the cancer, there's a great satisfaction in knowing that I'm walking off the field with no regrets.
People tell you you're having chemotherapy, but there are different types of chemotherapy, and you don't know which one you're going to get and how it's going to affect you. The people in the hospitals don't always have time to help you understand it.
As I laid in the hospital bed I started thinking that I had a show to do. I was hoping the Doctor would put me together so I could do the show.
I used to take someone with me for the chemotherapy so I could do jokes. You always try and find something absurd.
If I missed a game, that meant I was losing the battle. I'm not going to let leukemia affect me.
I was terrified of getting the chemo. It's not pleasant. And the radiation is not pleasant.