A bit of a wrench thrown in my week -- the radiation machine is down so I got yesterday and today off. It's a welcome break as I'm beginning to feel the effects of those healing beams. Fatigue is setting in and my skin is a nice shade of red...think beet, radish, cayenne pepper. And as red wouldn't be enough, it's begun to itch. Because the integrity of my skin is so important for my final surgery I can't touch it and it's driving me nuts! My doctor prescribed some steroid cream and it's beginning to feel better. And while I'm kvetching I'll throw in the fact that my joints are killing me...a likely side effect of the tamoxifen. Stretching and regular exercise seem to be the key to feeling better, all the more reason to drag out my yoga mat and get to work.
All that stuff aside, I'm feeling great. This disease has robbed me of my energy, my appetite, my hair and my last vestige of womanhood but I still have my sense of well being and my optimism intact. I went to get my Herceptin infusion yesterday; there I was, lined up with all the other cancer patients, each of us getting our own particular drug cocktail to ward off our bodies' interloping, unwanted cells. There were a few kids in their early twenties, some elderly patients and a number of folks in their 4o's, 50's and 60's. Cancer is the great equalizer...it knows no bounds. Regardless of your age, your socioeconomic background, your personal belief system, it can strike. There is no privacy in the infusion room and I've found it's both humbling and an honor to share space with someone's suffering. Tears are shed; phone calls are made to plan hospice; a nurse, a social worker or another patient holds a wavering hand in hopes that with community comes hope and courage. There are a few patients I've met along the way who have died and others who are not doing so great. And there are others still, who like me, are just plugging away, getting to a place of inner peace and new found health. I always appreciated my health but I'm sure I took it for granted, not realizing how fragile it is. Years from now, when this experience is a memory, I know that I won't be living with the same raw intensity I feel every day. But I do hope that I maintain my sense of wonder and that I wake up every morning happy...happy to be.
I'm getting ready for radiation tomorrow, slathering my skin with my creams and potions. And I'm getting in the right frame of mind to find my center and stretch. I think I need some chocolate first...mmm. Happy.
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