Welcome to the machine

Gerald Scarfe in Pink Floyd: Welcome to the Machine (1977).

This last Monday, 28th September 2020, was my fourth Chemo session and I woke up in a really gritty mood. I didn’t want to go for it, my whole body was yelling, “No!” And the reason for my mood was that there is no elastic in the medical procedure, no place to question whether my body was rightly telling me to go easy, or have a delay or whatever. I’ll never know what might have been at play, because the routine is rigid and what I think or feel is irrelevant. So my mood deteriorated and once the cannula was in and the chemicals flowing, my body went into shut down. I couldn’t stay awake, and spent the entire session feeling wasted, I didn’t want to be there and I was furious that no one picked up on it, even when I mentioned it, or gave a flying shit.

Since the Chemo, I’ve been out of sorts, mind and body, with a raging anger going on which has burst out any number of times at any small meaningless niggly things that seemed custom designed to wind me up and it’s been a really shitty week of feeling utterly out of sorts and in chaos.

And now the Chemo fog has hit and it’s hit bad and I feel battered and fucked up and I have no say in this and have no way to relieve or stop it or refuse to attend a Chemo session, which would just make waves and mess up their bloody system.

The absolutely worst aspect of this entire process of Chemo has been the inhumane, dehumanised treatment, with not a trace of kindness or consideration for the human being undergoing treatment.

I thought we’d got past the Newtonian mechanistic model of life, the universe and everything, but we’re not even close.

And I am 100% royally fucked off with it.

Keith Lindsay-Cameron aka KOG. 03 October 2020.

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