  I've always been on a lot of dog email lists, so when I found out I had cancer, I likewise joined the Hodgkin's email list.
One of the first emails I received was from a very nice retired man in Florida who said, "The chemo's not bad until the day when you are laying in bed wondering if anyone got the license plate number of the Semi-Truck that hit you. " Well, last night I met the Semi-Truck. I was doing GREAT until 6 pm. I remember barely making it to the guest bedroom (no way I could make it up the stairs to my bed. ) I remember laying there: "Ok, is my heart beating? " "Am I breathing? " "Do I have a temperature? " I remember wanting water and the full glass was there on the nightstand, but I had no strength to reach for it. I don't think they make bad enough words to describe how I felt. 
