What’s a cancer patient gotta do to detox from chemo? Go to my closet, of course. We’ve got our piece of Amsterdam’s Red Light District going on in there.

It all started in college when my friend and I were traipsing around Amsterdam with our Let’s Go Europe guide at the ready. My friend insisted that we see the Red Light District. We wouldn’t be able to live it down if we went to Amsterdam and missed what it was famous for.

(Plus, I wouldn’t have this story).

Back then, it was just some whim of hers put there by Let’s Go Europe, probably a conspiracy of some sort, and as her only travel companion, I had to go along.

We went in the day, and since it wasn’t far from our hostel, we walked. The closer we got, the more threatened I felt, like I should have come up with a better argument why this was a bad idea.

We got to the outskirts of it and turned down a side road. My friend had memorized the Let’s Go description and reminded me of the incredible architecture.

But when we stumbled on the first window with a burgundy curtain and two empty chairs out front, I wasn’t looking up at the tall building.

What a relief–no activity! Unlike the next window, a lady came out from behind a curtain in her black lingerie and sat down with her legs spread apart. It was no different than if she was wearing a bathing suit, I reminded myself, and waiting for the bus on a hot summer’s day.

But it was so unnatural to see her transform from an everyday person waiting for the bus into a lobster ready to be picked.

My friend and I looked at each other, and we had that moment, whether voiced or not, when we were like, “Screw Let’s Go Europe, let’s get out of here!”

And we ran and laughed that we were running. Not even sure what we were running from as we headed back towards our freedom.

But as the saying goes, “You can run, but you can’t hide.” I used to think my best friend’s brother had made up that saying when he’d give us Ex-Lax and fooled us into thinking it was a new kind of chocolate. After we recovered and had the strength to think of a way to retaliate, he’d catch us and say that.

But so it was with the Red Light District showing up in my closet after all these years. I ran away from it, but it found me again anyway.

Well, it didn’t show up, I have to admit. I (kind of) put it there. Okay, that’s not true either. I bought it. Stop grilling me already!

It just so happened like in Amsterdam all those years ago; call me a sucker. I’ll go along with some pretty goofy ideas.

You see, I was talking to this patient advocate and a cancer survivor who swore by his infrared sauna so much so that I asked him if he made a commission off the sales of them. He didn’t, but how could I argue when he said it’ll help me detox after my treatments.

He told me about an older woman who bleached her hair when she was young, and it turned out blue. When she went into an infrared sauna, blue dye came out of her skin. It gets rid of toxins from your entire life, not just chemo. He ended by saying, “Remember the blue dye.”

So the blue dye sold me. I bought one. But we had to wait several weeks for it to restock. So Alex, who would have found a compelling argument why we shouldn’t go to the Red Light District, said, “Shouldn’t you at least try this out first? Suppose you don’t even like it?”

So there I was, defending my decision having no idea what to say, “I have to get these toxins out of me, so I’ll do anything even if I hate it. It can’t be that bad since Mark loves it so much, and if it is, I’ll grow to like it.”

I sure did hope this wasn’t another bad chemo brain purchase, but I was going on blind faith listening to my new friend Mark.

But since I was already getting the sauna, why not upgrade? Who wants only to detox? Suppose I have pain and inflammation or want prettier skin?

Meanwhile, to prove how much I would love the sauna, I went to Restore Cryo, where I tracked down a Sunlighten infrared sauna. I’d have to drive there, use the sauna, come home, shower, and sometimes that’s all I could do in a day, but I’d do it.

By the time my sauna came in, I finally wouldn’t have to work so hard to relax. I was excited.

Alex was still skeptical. On top of his misgivings, he isn’t handy at all. We had to put in a dedicated outlet and hire a handyman and a helper to assemble it.

Finally, we had our sauna all set up and ready to go. Alex came with me to be the first to try it out.

We sat on the bench with all our clothes on and pushed start, so I could show him how it works. Our feet were the only thing getting warm. We sat side by side for 45 minutes, and I was still feeling kind of cold. We were on an airplane that never got off the ground.

After all the hype I gave it. It’s all the positive benefits of the UV rays of the sun without the harmful ones. It raises your body temperature three degrees to force the body into a fever state, so you get a deep-tissue cleanse.

I was talking like a salesperson, but we couldn’t break a chill with my new investment.

Yet, I got out of there, and I told the girls, “I feel so much more relaxed now.”

Alex said, “What a ripoff.”

The next day, I was beginning to question my own sanity, so I decided to call customer service to help me out here. Thankfully, it wasn’t me going crazy; customer support told me we simply didn’t set up the electrical wiring, and he’d have to walk me through it.

I wasn’t sure if I should break it to him that I’m on chemo, and I can’t do anything without hurting myself, doing something stupid, or spilling something. It’s not like I’m operating with a full set of hair.

So I called Alexandra into the closet to help me and put the guy on speaker while I relied on Alexandra to follow his instructions.

First, we had to move the bench. But we couldn’t do that, so it involved getting on my stomach and shimmying under the bench like a car mechanic. From that awkward position, I had to unscrew and pull up panels.

Sometimes I could do it. Then I’d call Alexandra to take over when I couldn’t. While we were switching places, I’d manage to get out from underneath that small space okay, get outside the unit and bang my head on the closet shelf, instead.

I’d say, “Ouch” and then curse, and the guy would say, “I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

This happened repeatedly. And then I’d yell at Alexandra, “Watch the glass door” or something or other as if she was the one doing the stupid things, not me.

But then he told us it was time to access the roof. Alexandra couldn’t reach it even with the step stool I had gotten. So I got up there and began to worry that this wasn’t the best idea.

Luckily Alex came in, got a real ladder, and was able to finish it off before I had a chance to hit my head again.

So two and a half hours later, we were the happy parents of a working sauna—no more fears. Mark didn’t steer me wrong. Alex and Alexandra love it, maybe even more than I. I joined the Sunlighten Facebook family, where we all talk about how much we love our saunas. Okay, Skylar finds it claustrophobic, but what did she expect? It’s a box in a closet, after all.

We’ve got our piece of Amsterdam’s Red Light District going on in there. So if we’re not sitting in the window with the lights all ablaze (we take turns–it’s not that big), the girls have found it to be an excellent recording studio. Did I fail to mention, it’s a fantastic piece of architecture? Go figure!