[Greg H]

It's day nine after the beginning of my induction chemotherapy at Duke University Hospital, and I am waiting for the other shoe to drop.

I do find myself a bit more fatigued each day, but that didn't stop me from walking a mile and a half in the halls both yesterday and today.

It does, on the other hand, lead to a kind of paranoia, with every little pain shooting through my head a sign of stroke and every gurgle of my stomach a sign that the dreaded gastrointestinal plague has arrived.

To give you an idea of how bad this gets, last night, I found myself experiencing pressure in my chest while sleeping. I have discovered that the secret to hospital life is to retire shortly after supper, because you are going to be awakened multiple times during the rest of the evening.

So, I am lying in bed, more than half asleep, with pressure in my chest, worrying about whether I should acquaint my nurse with this problem.

The odd thing about this pressure was that it had a distinctly rectangular aspect -- it felt like someone had squeezed my lungs into a box. It went on pretty much all night, with me drifting in and out of sleep.

I awoke this morning to the realization that I had gone to sleep with my iPhone in my hospital Johnny -- the source of the pressure and its distinctive rectangularity.

Both my nurse and the doctors leaned in when I mentioned the pressure -- and cracked up when I spilled the beans about the iPhone.

Still, it's a good example of what it feels like to be waiting for the other shoe to drop.