The bubbles have arrived. Bubbles popping up all over the red tender skin on the right side of my chest. They’re burn blisters of course. I’d hoped this would have waited until the very end so my skin wouldn’t be peeling during radiation.
Alas. Bubbles.
I was messaging a friend who has been through this and has offered sage advice along the path. She’s also honest. A trait I love. I asked for tips now that I’m all bubbles. She’d already given me a list of creams to use, which I’ve been applying.
Unfortunately, there’s nothing left. “I’m so sorry. You’re doing all you can. I have a permanent scar from radiation burns.”
I looked at my clock. Nearly noon. Nothing on my work calendar until 2.
I needed some air. And also some milk, eggs, and butter.
So I drove to a grocery store a little further away. Windows down. Storm has blown through and now it’s sunny and 75. BLARING music.
For some crazy reason, I thought of Sheryl Crow. I haven’t listened to her in years.
I went all the way back. Tuesday Night Music Club. Played all of the songs I still know the lyrics to.
I kept going back to the first track, Run, Baby, Run. And I don’t care who’s driving by. I’m singing loud, right along with Sheryl, hair blowing out the window:
So run, baby, run, baby, run, baby, run, baby, run.
So run, baby, run, baby, run, baby, run, baby, run.
So run, baby, run, baby, run, baby, run, baby, run.
Over and over.
Run.
I remember the days I always rolled my windows down. Let my hair blow loose. Sang at the top of my lungs. Exhaled.
And now, I’m driving to pick up groceries for three kids with radiation burns on my chest.
It all changes so fast.
Yesterday, before radiation I dropped our dog at the vet and afterwards I dropped my car at the shop for an oil change and inspection. Today, before radiation I dropped our tortoise at the vet and afterwards picked up Bray at the mechanic because of an ever aging truck.
All before 8:30 am and the start of a full time work day followed by softball practices and baseball games.
There are days you want to run.
You don’t.
But it’s okay to sing about it with your hair blowing out of the window.
Leave a Reply