In Hospital — When Your Skin Feels Like It’s on Fire

 

I’m writing this from a hospital bed because today took a turn I wasn’t expecting.

 

I had a reaction to the anti-sickness medication and my whole body feels like it’s crawling.

Not just itchy — violent itchy.

The kind of itch that makes you want to claw your skin off just to get a second of relief.

The kind that makes you shake, cry, swear, and beg your own body to stop.

 

It’s terrifying when something that’s supposed to help suddenly feels like it’s attacking you.

 

I can’t get comfortable.

I can’t stay still.

It feels like fire under my skin — like sparks running up my arms, down my legs, across my back.

Even my scalp feels wrong.

 

And I’m scared.

Because it’s a reminder of how fragile everything is — how quickly a normal treatment day can turn into a hospital night.

 

The nurses here are keeping an eye on me.

They’ve given me things to calm the reaction, and they’re checking my breathing and my skin.

I’m in the right place — even though it feels like hell in my own body right now.

 

I keep crying from the frustration and the fear and the sheer discomfort.

Cancer already steals enough from you — moments like this feel like one more thing taken: peace, control, comfort, safety.

 

If anyone else reading this has ever had an allergic reaction or drug reaction, you’ll understand the panic of it.

The way it takes over every thought until all you can think is:

 

Make it stop. Please, just make it stop.

 

I know it will pass.

I know they’re treating it.

I know I’m safe here.

 

But right now, in this moment, it’s awful.

And I’m allowed to say that.

I’m allowed to hate this.

I’m allowed to cry.