I'll admit it, this girl with the usual sunny disposition is feeling a little down about this whole radiation thing. Having to go to the hospital every day, disrobe, lay on an uncomfortable table, have folks moving me around to get me positioned just right, having sharpie marks and pieces of tape all over my chest, and then having to get pumped full of something that folks normally avoid like the plague, is all just a bit much, truth be told. And that cancer center, despite the great folks who work there, is sad and depressing. Let's face it, it's a little grim sitting in a room with a bunch of people who have cancer. Some of them look healthier than others (I'd like to think that I look healthiest of all, but who knows). Some look downright sick. I'd love to know their stories. What kind of cancer? When was it detected? Have they had cancer before? Did they do chemo? What is their prognosis? Will they get better? Will their cancer come back? How long with they (and I) live? All of these thoughts go through my head when I'm sitting in the waiting room at the cancer center waiting for my treatment.
Folks who know me may be surprised to hear this tone from me. I'm sorry. What can I say? It's Christmas and I have to go get pumped full of radiation every day and my breast is already turning pink (something that I was told wouldn't happen for a few weeks). I'm doing fine, really; just having one of those "woe is me" moments, I guess. Perhaps it's the article in The New Yorker that I read last night about a man dying suddenly from an infection in his lung, written by his loving wife of many years. That was a really sad story.
Today, though, I'm going to look for happier things on which to focus, and no doubt, tomorrow's post will be peppy and upbeat again!
Have a great Tuesday.
Erin
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