Tough Twinkie

What is Chemotherapy Servin’ Up? On the TV show Kitchen Nightmares , Chef Gordon Ramsay delivered a wake-up call to a restaurant owner who misunderstood “soup of the day.” Ramsay, with his face crinkled like an omelet and his voice booming like Oz, clarified it meant fresh soup made that day with available ingredients — certainly NOT reheated sludge from a week ago. Well, let me tell you, chemotherapy listened to Ramsay. Every day it serves up a special “symptom du jour” from whatever ingredients it collects in my nervous system. This menu changes daily and it is not a comforting bowl of chicken noodle soup. Here is what chemotherapy has served to me: Put Me on the Couch Pozole Bursting with a deeply spiced broth that zaps your soul — gripping your body with haunting discomfort, stinging your muscles with creeping tension, and clouding your mind with a haze of pessimism. Wait… was that supposed to be in the recipe? Bloody Bisque Enveloping the palate with a velvety richness so intense...

A Haiku for Nosebleeds Brave nasal jungle,  once a barricade to storms,  now bursts crimson tide. Ever since the first chemotherapy infusion, I have been locked in an unexpected battle with spontaneous nosebleeds. At first, I blamed the usual suspects — spring pollen, dry wind, the moody whims of the season. But no… that was far too convenient. The truth is stranger. It is more intimate. My nose hairs fell out. That’s right — just like the hair on my head, the brave little wires that once lined my nasal jungle have vanished. Now my nostrils are defenseless against the crimson tide. Yet I march forward with tissues at my side because I am a Tough Twinkie.

BE A TOUGH TWINKIE My mom recalls sitting in the kitchen as a youngster and her mother exclaiming, “Tough Twinkies!” A phrase that my grandmother, Elvera, created on the spot to end the complaining by my mom and her siblings about something they deemed unfair. When I heard the story from my mom it had me cackling! What a confusing yet funny response to the complainers. Since I always made up phrases and silly slogans, I adopted “Tough Twinkies”. However, my interpretation is slightly different. To me, “Tough Twinkies” sounds more like “GET TOUGH” or “BE TOUGH”. So it represents getting over the bullshit because life is unfair… it just is. The diagnosis of breast cancer was unfair. Going through the treatment sucks, it just does. Yet, I am a Tough Twinkie.

Chemotherapy Infusion #1 The first infusion was May 2nd, 2025. For 1 week the body aches, the headaches, and the muscle tension kept me hunkered down and sunk into the couch. I could barely stand up and instead of walking I hobbled around the apartment and between my place and my parents’ (depending on the next infusion, I might need a cane). For a handful of days I could hardly eat. The first obstacle was constipation. When that passed I experienced diarrhea immediately after I ate, so instead I drank broth, teas, and water. Then there were a couple of days that my mouth was inflamed and even drinking water hurt my teeth. So 1-week after the first chemotherapy infusion and FINALLY I could consume food and drink without side effects. It seemed like the wave of symptoms ended!  Oh how silly of me to be hopeful. My sinuses dried up and I experienced insane nose bleeds out of nowhere. I had to shoot up from the couch or the bed and race to the bathroom to toss my face into the sink. I...