The view above my radiation table has a textured ceiling, and when the beam hasn't been directly bove me, I've picked out several different designs in the texture. I've found a pumpkin with a nice pointy stem. I've found the face of comedy, but thankfully, I've never found tragedy. I've found the profile of the Grinch, and among other designs, I've found an angry, scary monkey up there. I can still pick out all of these things in the tiles above me, but over the past week or so, I've lost the monkey. He's just disappeared. I'm kind of glad I lost him, because he was a bit scary to me, and monkeys aren't supposed to be scary. Ok, maybe if they're the flying monkeys on The Wizard of Oz.
As I looked for the monkey the other day, I thought of how he symbolized the scariness of radiation when I first started six weeks ago. I was angry at having to even do something like this to my body, knowing that the effects aren't just what I'm feeling now, but effects that I will be subject to for the rest of my life. I've had ten months of treatments, long, scared waits for test results, nausea, changes in physical appearance and in habits--changes for a lifetime.
My surgery in September changed me forever, and having my lymph nodes removed is something I wish had not happened, but it did, and now I get to deal with a host of potential issues in my right arm. I'm constantly aware of my arm and the tightness and discomfort that will never go away. Radiation has made it worse, and it's made me be extra cautious with my arm.
And rightly so, my family is being very protective of me and of what I do with my right arm. In spite of their arguments, I waited tonight until the sun was starting to set, and I went out with my hand clippers and trimmed some small limbs that were hanging down from the trees in the yard. I can't stand being inside and not doing anything at all outside. Having my right arm up over my head is a good thing, and as long as I don't overuse it or injure it, activity is good for my arm. Besides, I only used my right arm and hand to hold limbs. I used the "good" hand so much that I now have a lovely blister at the base of my thumb! Serves me right.
Honestly, if I quit doing, what quality of life will I have? I am the first to admit that I'm very stubborn, and after I recover from this stint with radiation, I'm not sure how much of my "used to" activity I'll be giving up for good. It's hard not to do when it's what I've done forever.
I posted some pictures of what my neck looks like right now. I didn't really understand what the doctor meant about skin breakdown until one day last week when one of the little moles on my neck turned black from being fried with radiation, and when I scratched at it, my skin peeled off like a peach. As the week progressed, Kelsey said my neck looked burgundy rather than just pink or red, and in the evening it IS a purplish burgundy. I can't put cortisone on it now since the skin is broken, so I'm just using Aquafor to keep it from burning and itching.
The rest of my skin is holding up very well right now, but it's still too tender to wear a bra. My last five treatments (yes, I only have five more!) are directly to the tumor bed straight into my breast. The doctor drew a kidney-shaped mark on part of my breast (an area smaller than a chlid's fist), and the treatments that start Tuesday will be shot from three inches away straight into that area. I'm told I shouldn't be able to tell a difference from the other treatments I've been getting, and I hope I can't tell a difference. One of my biggest issues all along with cancer treatment has been that I want to know what will happen, what to expect, what I need to do, what they are going to do--all before it happens. I don't do as well with the unexpected.
I didn't expect cancer to strike when I found the tumor last September, and there have been many times when I've had to fight the urge to pull out chemo tubes or jump off the radiation table and just run away. But I'm still working to finish up what has been started to cure me, and I'm hoping to be cured. I know there will be more blood tests, more PET scans, more of all of it which will mean more tense waiting in my future. Bring it on. We are never promised life without issues.
And I'm glad the angry/scary monkey has made himself scarce these days, because I don't need that in my life right now. Maybe he's moved on because he knows I'm about finished with radiation. Maybe he's only there when people ARE angry or scared.
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