Can I get a Hallelujah?

I’m through with radiation treatment! The staff presents each patient with a signed "diploma" stating “Congratulations on completing your course of Radiation Therapy.” Cheryl said, “It’s been a pleasure,” which I said was an odd thing to say, but I knew what she meant. The staff certainly has been a bright spot in this dreary time. I hope they enjoy the Drop-Dead (unfortunate name, given the circumstances) Decadent Double Chocolate Chip cookies I made them. Based on the very non-scientific scan of the waiting room, I’m guessing the average age of patients will go up. Besides the teenager, Brian, I was often the youngest one being treated.

I'm pretty sure that part of the training to become a radiation oncologist is practicing to say incredibly bizarre and hilarious statements while keeping a straight face. How else can you explain my doctor’s ability to look at my burned, blistered, brown, scaly skin and say, “That looks good!” I’m a bit obsessive about keeping the area lubricated with ointment, and apparently it’s paying off again, according to my doctor.

The books warn you about skin problems but they don’t mention is the awful smell of burnt flesh. That coupled with the summer heat means I’ll definitely look forward to being able to wear deodorant again under both arms. The techs acknowledge that it must be hard to smell so wrong but they’re very kind about it. Especially considering how close they have to get to position me.

The social worker warned me today that the time after radiation treatment is a high-risk time psychologically. Apparently, some patients who do well during daily treatment don’t do so well in the months following. Without the regular attention of kind technicians and those paying close attention to your progress, some slide back. So she says for me to pay attention to my emotional health and have a plan of self-care. My plan includes regular exercise, smaller portions, and a bi-monthly clergy accountability group. It also includes celebration, which I think will be a Pirate movie, a fancy restaurant and a colorful martini. (Note from NotherFrog to math people: that's a "pirate" movie not a "pi rate" movie. I'm sure it's good, but I don't think math is big component of the film.) Also, a friend has gotten us tickets to an Indigo Girls Concert at the end of the month--so we'll be rockin' out in joy.

It also means taking naps when I need them. When I was first diagnosed, my mom sent me two new nightgowns as a hint to take it easy. So now my sleep is more fashionable.