The next three weeks after my first chemo treatment certainly weren’t great, but they were bearable. The first week I encountered serious side effects including constant nausea and throwing up, stomach pains, diarrhea and dehydration. Not to mention I had lost my appetite. I have never had a problem eating. In fact it’s one of my favorite things to do. But the thought of food made me sick. Everything I put in my mouth had a metallic taste. Even my cravings for Tasti-D-Lite had vanished. Mom stayed with me for the first week and forced me to eat bread and soup. She also started me on a macrobiotic diet.

In the meantime, I had appointments with the nurses, my oncologist and the blood lab on a weekly basis. I brought my new wigs in to show all the doctors and nurses and made some dumb jokes about going bald. In the four times I had been in to see them, I had never been cried around them.

“You know, Asha, it’s OK to be upset. Many people go through denial when they find out they have cancer because it’s a very hard thing to deal with. It’s not healthy to pretend this is just a joke. This is serious,” my oncologist had said.I was flabbergasted. Was she kidding? I was far from being in denial. I knew exactly what was happening and of course I was taking it seriously. I was doing everything I needed to do to get through this. But I refused to feel bad for myself.

Three weeks later, I began feeling better again, almost back to what I felt like before my first treatment. Thankfully I felt well enough to fly home to Boston despite the doctors’ warnings about traveling. My next chemo appointment would be three days after Tony’s party. My hair still hadn't falling out and now I was becoming worried that I had cut my hair for nothing. I hadn't been warned that it wouldn't start falling until three weeks after the first chemo treatment.