I wrote an article for this blog entitled “Things I Hate About Chemo.” The list was long.
Last week, before my fourth chemo treatment, I found myself thinking about all the things I hate about chemo. The taste in my mouth. The nausea. The fatigue. The things my body goes through.
And then my spirit said to me, “You’re not seeing the beauty.”
I thought to myself, What beauty? What am I missing?
So, I pondered.
And, of course, the first thing that came to mind was the people in the chairs.
Most of them are older. Many are quiet. Some are alone, and some have someone sitting beside them. But I’ve always been impressed by their strength and dignity. There is something beautiful about watching people continue to show up, even when life has handed them something they never expected. There is beauty in that.
There’s also beauty in knowing that someone is there for you. Like my husband, Orlando.
He has never missed a beat when it comes to chemo. He shows up. He encourages me. He simply is there. And there is something powerful about not having to walk through something difficult alone.
Then there are the nurses.
I really despise the taste I get in my mouth when they flush my port. 😂 I guess the look on my face tells them exactly how much I dislike it because they’re always apologetic, gentle, and upbeat. They are truly gems.
And then there’s the chemo room itself. It’s huge—probably large enough to hold 75 people at a time. But somehow, my little space becomes my own. My big, comfy chair gives me a massage and has a heating function. I can charge my phone. I can work quietly on my laptop. I can read, think, pray, write, or simply sit and sleep.
These little things matter. They are part of the beauty.
I realized that I had been so focused on what I don’t like about chemo that I had overlooked the things that make the experience a little more bearable—and sometimes even meaningful.
The beauty isn’t that I have cancer. The beauty is in the people, the kindness, the strength, the comfort, the companionship, and the little moments of grace that show up in the middle of something I would never have chosen for myself. There is still pain. There is still uncertainty. There are still things I hate about chemo.
But there is also beauty. And I don’t want to miss it.