My love affair with words began in childhood. My relationship with words led to my passion for writing, and my work as a writer. For me, words are the same as clay to a sculptor. I mold words and shape them into sentences as works of art, to invoke a thought, a feeling, to express a philosophy, and to create beauty. During chemotherapy, I was prepared for hair loss. I was not prepared for the loss of my words. In mid-sentence, I stumbled in direction without any idea where my train of thought had intended to go. The half-sentence hung in mid-air, incomplete. I could look at a thing, have an experience, and not remember the word used to describe it. Short-term memory loss became a common daily occurrence. I was not a list maker by nature; I had not needed to use that tool to manage my days. I depended on my excellent ability to remember. Suddenly, note taking and list making became essential to navigating through each day. I was frightened by what might be happening to my mind in the fundamental changes of my brain ability to function at the normal levels it had before treatment for cancer. Recent research studies find that the temporary damage suffered from chemotherapy on brain function, in diminished capacities of comprehension, concentration, and memory, are legitimate medical conditions. The condition is real, and the medical term for it is chemobrain. A fog had settled into my brain, and the visibility became very limited. At the time, no one could predict whether my condition was temporary or permanent. Fortunately, over time, I regained the capabilities of my brain functioning abilities, before chemotherapy. Losing a word or losing a thought does not happen as frequently, as the fog continues to recede from the recesses of my mind.