I’m doing a terrible job writing every day of my radiation. So this is late. But the truth is, yesterday was so hard, I didn’t have it in me to write.
All week of radiation I stayed upbeat. Positive. Each day was another day down.
But Friday, Day 5, not so good.
My skin has started hurting. I’m moisturizing every day, so I had hoped I could hold that off longer.
Students sometimes train with the technicians during my radiation, and I had these young men trainees on Thursday and Friday. It didn’t hit me as hard Thursday, but Friday it was so depressing. These little 20something guys leaning nearly on top of my cut up breasts trying to line up the damn radiation machine.
I have been fortunate to have an all female team of doctors, which in this particular circumstance, I really needed, but I’m not odd about male doctors. My fertility doc was a man. My high risk perinatologist for the babies was the most unbelievable male doctor, exactly who I needed. But on Friday morning, I did not need some boy baby student in the room.
After staying very ‘glass is half full,’ Friday was sad.
Every single day I walk in and someone is pulling my tunic off. As my best friend was distinguishing that one time you go in to have a baby versus what I’m facing now. “Now you’re being subject to this every day, you’re laid bare in front of strangers, for 23 days.” (Then she went on to say that she was sorry she couldn’t be there with me, and started laughing and said, “Well no, that would be weird too.” It did make me laugh.)
But that term resonated with me. I felt bare. Outside and inside.
It hurts to wear the seat belt in my car.
My forearms are hurting at night because they lay against this hard plastic table over my head and the pressure makes them hurt even after I leave.
This is a hard step you have to go through in the healing. But it sucks.
Today was good with gorgeous weather and little bit winning her final basketball game and the baby having a friend over to play. But I’m tired. Sadness makes you tired.
I’ll get better. Of course I will. I’m mindful of the dozens have miracles which have unfolded along this way. And of how much more fortunate my path is than other breast cancer warriors. Day 5, though, was crap.