We've had a great Father's Day today with lunch at a Carrabba's in Memphis, then a little bit of shopping. I actually wore a bra today knowing that being out in the heat like that would cause chafing issues for my arm and breast, but the four hours I had it on were more than enough to remind me of how tender my radiated skin is.
The skin actually looks pretty good, but the tenderness is there nonetheless. Having the weekend free from radiation is nice, and I can't tell you how much I'm dreading tomorrow and this week of treatments. I told Barry yesterday that I can see why depression is one of the side effects of radiation treatments--a person's life is disrupted to the point that regular activity or habits are not comfortable. When you can't do what is routine without it potentially bothering your skin, it's not fun. I'm not too tired or anything like that, but I have had to watch how much I do. I did take the time to read a book, so I AM sitting down some.
18 treatments down--15 to go.
Although my cancer was Stage IIIa which is not the worst but certainly not the best, I am continually reminded of how fortunate I am. Each morning when I go for my radiation treatments, there is an older, black gentleman in the waiting room with me, and he gets his treatments just after me. He has throat cancer.
Over the past couple of weeks, I've learned he's had surgery already, he's had all of his teeth pulled to get him ready for mouth and throat radiation, he has a feeding tube in his stomach and he also has a port installed, ready for chemotherapy. The radiation is beginning to affect his throat and make it scratchy and sore, and he still has a ways to go. He doesn't want to have to use the feeding tube, but he may eventually be forced to if his throat gets too raw. He's concerned about chemotherapy, and I've told him a little of my experience and how each person reacts differently to treatment. I told him of the importance of eating right whether he felt like it or not, and I told him that Sonic ice was my best friend during chemo. He lifts his head now and smiles when I come into the waiting area, and I smile back. I'm embarrassed that I haven't asked his name yet, but I'll find that out soon. God knows who he is.
Life is tough, but there is always someone else around who has it just a little tougher. I'm not saying I won't whine and grumble about the discomfort I'm in, because I'm human. But I really DO know how fortunate I am.
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