I had happily resigned myself to my fate, but the nausea from the chemo was unbearable

I’ve had it with the chemo. The sixth had fallen less well – fits of severe nausea, exhaustion. Everything that had been predicted but had failed to materialize so far: it seemed like I had to catch up in one go.

So it was a good thing that the oncologist had told me shortly before that I should not go on endlessly with that poison, which I thought, but that you were at your tax with about eight times. So I only needed two more.

If the next scan in a month would turn out well, I would be free of the chemo for the time being. If the scan wasn’t as good, I’d get two more.

I forgot to ask what happened next.

I had long since happily resigned myself to my fate, but especially the accompanying nausea was unbearable and paralyzing. There were also pills against that, but initially they did not help. Heavier artillery eventually worked.

I had a week before pampus ago and to cheer myself up I bought a large painting, a very large painting: 2.5 by 1.2 meters. Now I live on the eighteenth floor in a new building whose elevators are not too big, and also equipped with relocation protection, so I could have seen the misery coming. But I mainly saw possibilities, not problems.

The painting wouldn’t fit in the elevator. So I go to the stairwell. That’s 36 stairs, but the height looked good. At least on the ground floor. On the first floor it turned out that the stairwell is mainly intended for fleeing people, not for goods that do not fit in the elevator – you just barely hit your head against the ceiling.

There’s no way the huge painting could make the turns here.

Don’t worry, the building has an elevator on the outside for window cleaners. Now they are not the calmest guys – it looks like a fairground attraction, the way they sometimes bumped into the facade in that cart – but with a little good will and discipline it should work.

The carrier thought otherwise. There was no way he wanted to take responsibility for this. A crane had to be installed. That cost three thousand euros.

Then only my own responsibility, I decided. I signed a lengthy disclaimer for the carrier and was told the next day if the men in that wobbly container were available. I was a little worried, it was not only a large painting but also a very expensive painting.

Then the gallery called, which I hadn’t informed yet out of shame, but who got wind of it: the artist could disassemble the work and then reassemble it upstairs. Without any damage. What exactly was the problem?

Get rid of nausea.