Radiation isn’t too bad. Not compared to chemo anyway. It left me tired and stranded in bed some days, but compared to the different phases of hell I walked through this past year, radiation was by far one of the easier ones.
Not to say it isn’t difficult. Every day for six weeks straight I drove to the hospital, waited my turn, held perfectly still while they adjust and re-adjusted the table, held my breath for up to 40 seconds between 4-8 times, and listened as the machine zapped it’s way through me. Sometimes I could smell and taste my skin burning. I applied creams and aloe as prescribed 4 times a day- ruining half my tops as the greasy applications soaked into my clothing.
Fortunately, I don’t have many nerve endings in that area anymore so I am only moderately uncomfortable.
To be perfectly honest, it used to be a lot worse. But that’s what healing is all about. Time, patience, gentleness. Slowly but surely, I’ll crawl out of it. I’m working on that both emotionally and physically now.
I am still at odds with myself physically and mentally- something I’ll write more about later. But for now, I wanted to remind you (okay, me) that we heal. Our greatest wounds heal over time, it’s one of the amazing gifts of being human. I’m not suggesting we move on without scars, or that we are not forever altered. But still, we move on.
And maybe if we’re really lucky and we hold on to hope and faith, we also move up.
Give ‘Em Hell