It's just radiation

To a person, everyone says something to the effect of "well, it's just radiation."  As in, it's easier than chemo. And it is.  That doesn't mean I want to be doing it.  That doesn't mean it's nice. Radiation is just as pernicious as chemo, but it's more subtle.

Five days a week trudging into the hospital. Not a fun place to visit everyday. It doesn't seem like a place for healing. It seems dirty. It's a fairly heavy-handed reminder "Kelly, you have cancer."

The experience of treatment itself feels like a scene from Star Wars.  The Death Star with its super laser. The loud countdown noise.  Me in a room by myself on a table with a clunky paneling shifting around my torso and blaring beeps and a red laser.  Just radiation.

I had my blood pressure taken after treatment today and it was apparent there is some stress involved.

One week down. Five to go. My skin will suffer but it doesn't hurt yet. I feel fatigue but I think it is the result of my stress.

And how am I?  I'm ok. You know.  I'm managing.  I heard something on the radio the other day that stuck with me. It was an interview of Tony Hale and he noted that he learned to practice contentedness in life - whatever the circumstances - so that when he achieved his goals, he would know how to be happy. I'm practicing this exercise. I am practicing being content now, so when this process is behind me, which is what I want, I will know how to be happy with my life whatever else comes.

Incidentally, my hair is so far from a cute pixie it's comical. It is starting to look like I am some crazy hair masochist who chose to chop all of her hair off.  But hey, now people think I'm crazy and have bad taste but not cancer!

Radiation Eve

It isn't as exciting as Christmas Eve that's for sure.

The past two weeks have been, um, my favorite phrase, highly variable.

I was thrilled to return to work in the middle of July. I had this moment of pure happiness at my desk on Monday. It was so nice to be there, see my friends and coworkers and feel good. That thrill has been slightly diminished by the work load creeping back in but it still feels so good to be there.

I realized as I returned to work that I felt as good as I've felt since the start of my pregnancy with Ian - November 2012.  It's been eighteen months since I've had my body to myself. Pregnancy, post-partem, chemo, surgery. It is nice to have myself back - such as it is. But it was also fleeting.

We had some challenges preparing for radiation.  There was some miscommunication with the doctor and some disappointment as a result.  The miscommunication wasn't a big deal, but it was an unpleasant jolt. A reminder, you aren't done yet, honey. Back into anonymous waiting rooms, delays, appointments and a cadre of medical professionals scrutinizing my breasts. Oh goodie.

Unrelated and yet totally related, I have had significant amounts of joint pain. I have difficultly walking after periods of inactivity. The mornings are the worst. I can hardly move my feet. My gait resembles an eighty year old's.  After a clumsy fall that resulted in actual and ego bruises, I added a new physician to my repertoire. I don't actually know what he does, but we talked about how my body is working -mechanically - and how to tackle the various kinks in the systems.

I think that was really helpful. Also a little overwhelming. Double check that it isn't some rheumatoid arthritis, then if not add physical therapy, add joint supplement, ensure five days a week of exercise, wear a sleeve for the lymphademea.  (In my head, I added... Plus radiation five days a week, plus working, plus my life and two young kids).

Somewhere in my draft last night I fell asleep. So, now it is actually the Christmas of radiation. It was a bit funny if I can laugh at myself and the ridiculousness of it.

I had a work offsite all day. Fortunately, it was in Georgetown.  I slipped out of my meetings and over to the hospital midday. Radiation wasn't awful. Just a few minutes too long in an uncomfortable position, immodestly undressed in a room full of people.  But because it was the first session, the radiation techs outlined the fields of radiation.  And by that I mean, in marker all over my chest, side, armpit and neck.  And then I got to go back to work. Still covered in traces of marker. This is how I know I'm growing and evolving.  A year ago, this would have be untenable. Now, I tried to rub it off and then I got dressed and went back to work. What can you do but laugh.  It couldn't have been that bad because Miles didn't remark about it when I got home from work - and he is exacting.

Speaking of the boys, Ian this precious sweet thing vexes me. He calls me dada.  I say mama. He says dada. How could he know how to so effectively provoke me at such a young age?

And reporting back on a small step, Miles and I have spent in the past two Saturday mornings in the basement of a neighborhood church packaging groceries for delivery to families in need in DC.

Happy New Year

*I drafted and thought I posted this on July 15.*


I'm not sure what year it is in the Chinese calendar, but for me its been the year of the breast.  From nursing to new, its sortof all I've done for twelve months.  And what a year it has been. 



Today is Ian's first birthday.  Setting aside the realities of it - he has some virus and scary high fevers - it just feels like such an incredible accomplishment to celebrate.  For Ian, for me, for our family.

We celebrated with Jim's family over Fourth of July weekend.  We celebrated with my family this weekend.  We celebrated quietly tonight with a few bites of ice cream.  More soothing, rocking and crooning than singing.



My second and last baby turned one today.  He walks.  He talks.  He plays.  He has a laugh beyond compare.  What a precious gift he is to me.  And a baby no more. 



I'm coming out of a weird place.  Everyone who has supported me over the past seven months has been triumphant.  The pathology report was amazing.  I came through surgery just fine - I mean, I don't remember much of the last four weeks of my life - but that is apparently an acceptable detail of a successful surgery.  Everyone is relieved and happy.  Except me.



I'm trying to understand why I feel so differently than everyone around me.  I guess grieving always takes longer than expected and I am still grieving.   



I am still faced with the reality that Jim and I have a different future.  At best, one that has a lot more fear.  I am still trying to figure out what that means for how we live our day to day lives. 



I am also cognizant of the fact that I want my life to be different.  But I don't know how.  As I continue to feel better, I'm feeling pressure to identify and act on the "how."  I'm working to remind myself that I have six weeks of daily doses of radiation to round out my summer.  I probably shouldn't worry about self-improvement just yet. 



It was also pointed out to me that I don't even really know what it is like to have two kids yet.  Ian was four months when I was diagnosed.  Perhaps, I'll allow myself to finish my treatment program and live my new life before I decide how to change it. 



I guess, I'm in a period of transition.  In my treatment.  In my thinking.  But it does feel like Ian's birthday is a line of demarcation. Into the new year - a year of forward movement.