Chemotherapy: The Ultimate Miracle Diet

As I've said before, I'm not really exhibiting the full array of negative symptoms associated with chemotherapy yet. I still have my hair, for one thing. And today I revisited the lovely fertility clinic, since I was in the area because I had to have more blood drawn. By the way, someone needs to point out that, judging by the pornography ready there, that either the clinic has a disproportionately high number of black patients, or someone has a voracious predilection for brown sugar, and I don't mean heroin. Anywho, I then forced myself to eat, which is becoming the most noticeable side effect of the chemo at this point. I really have no appetite.

Not a small one, mind you. None whatsoever. Furthermore, like some women on an SSRI with regard to sex, it actually disgusts me. The thought of anything edible makes me reel with revulsion. I've said before (again) that I may look like Nosferatu in a few weeks, but that was mostly a joke. Now, though, it seems more and more like a possible--nay, probable--physical reality. To eat makes me cringe. The mere prospect of a future meal nauseates me, and I am already nauseated all the time.

I also said before that I was going to bulk up in preparation for this steep decline in appetite, so it was not exactly unexpected. However, I evidently did not make enough headway, because I have to endure endless admonishments, mostly from my mother, to eat. I was never exactly svelte, but ever since high school I've remained relatively, reliably, around 200 pounds. By the end of this fun little stem cell trial, who knows where I'll fall?

Earlier, I watched some brief commercial/infomercial for some new fad diet. I forget what the actual name of it was, but I remember that it consisted of letters and numbers. In the interest of dark humor, I'll call it the RU486 Diet. That nonsense never works in the long run--everyone I know who went on Atkins or South Beach or something comparable gained back the weight they'd lost.

If you need a gimmicky regimented diet to lose weight, let me introduce the Chemotherapy Diet. You rarely get hungry, the simple thought of food disgusts you, and the pounds just slide off!

Seriously, though, if you're dumb enough to subscribe to any fad diet rather than make simple nutritional adjustments, this may be for you! All you need is to get diagnosed with any form of cancer that uses chemotherapy as a treatment--or, like me, participate in a trial that also uses it--and I guarantee that the pounds will just melt away. Sure, you could die, but wouldn't you rather be dead and thin than alive and fat?

It's sad that some people would probably try this out. The nausea never wanes. (The slow moon climbs, and the dark moans round with many voices. "Ulysses" again...) When it becomes unbearable, and it's time to pop another pill, you feel like fried shit, which is how I've come to describe how I still feel after only my first chemo treatment.

Does that sound yummy? Is it enticing? I thought not. Mission accomplished, chemo.

Come, my friends. 'Tis not too late to seek a newer world. (I should stop before I get cloyingly pretentious--if I haven't already--by quoting Tennyson some more.)

Try Chemotherapy: The Ultimate Miracle Diet!

R
--Disclaimer: please don't.