Hairy Radiation Angel

I started radiation on Monday.  I thought about this day way back in June when we originally talked about it.  And I thought it was going to be the easy part.  It is EASIER, but not easy.  So that Jason doesn't have to miss too much work, I asked for an early appointment time.  "Here you go, Mrs. Ford....7:15."  Shit. That means I have to get up at 6:30 (after getting up several times with my wonderful son who still is not sleeping through the night), drive to the hospital, park, scan my card, undress, wait to be called back shivering in my thin gown, get manipulated on the table so all my marks line up, freeze while on the table with nothing on from the waist up, get infused with radiation, get up, dress, walk back to the car, and drive home.  It is now 8:00 and sweet Charlie is smiling in his crib.  And the day begins....

But let me backtrack to tell you about my first day of radiation.  There are a couple appointments before my actual first dose of radiation.  You relax on a table while they "mark" you up with a Sharpie.  These Xs are used to line up the machine so the radiation goes to the same place every time.  So, I am on the table with my arms above my head in stirrup-looking things.  They are manipulating my body so the marks line up.  One of the techs was right in my armpit.  I had a thought.  What if my underarm hair has grown back and I didn't know it?  I had not had to shave in over 4 months.  Before I could think more about it, they tell me to be still.  They explain......the machine will rotate around me.  If I need to cough or sneeze, do it towards the ceiling and don't move.  They will leave the room, but they can hear and see me the entire time.  (I guess I won't be farting or picking my nose)  Then they leave.  It will take less than 10 minutes.  While this is going on, I try to sleep.  But my mind wanders.....

My mind lands on Jean.  Jean, Jean, The Dancing Machine.  I had the privilege of teaching with Jean and calling her my friend.  She was a picture of positivity and laughter.  She lost her fight last February.  I have thought of her often since my diagnosis.  Before I was diagnosed, I thought a lot about how she must have felt.  I will not pretend that I do know now, but unfortunately I am closer to understanding.  So I was thinking about her and talked to her a little bit.  Then I had this crystal clear image - Jean was standing to the right of me, her right hand on my hip, her left hand on my shoulder, and her head was bowed.  Tears came and a sense of peace came over me.  Is she up there watching over me?  Is she smiling down and laughing along with me?  I would like to think so.  I miss you, Jean, and I hope you are enjoying your pain-free body and new wings.

I leave the office and walk to my car.  1 out of 33 treatments done.  I hope the fatigue is not too bad and hope the blisters don't come.  (Although I am thinking that might make my boob look bigger.  Score!) I left the parking garage thinking about how many times I had pulled up to the window to pay after a treatment.  Sometimes it still floors me that I going through this.  Sometimes it is like a dream.

I get home and both boys are still sleeping so I take the opportunity to take a shower.  I think to look under my arms and OMG!  There isn't just a few hairs, but a lot and one that is pretty darn long.  That poor woman had to look at that!  I just start laughing and can't stop.  During all these crazy emotions, it always come back to the same thing - life can suck, but if you look close enough, there is usually something to laugh about and get you through it.

So stand up and raise your heads, look for the humor, and laugh your ass off.  It really is the only choice because, if you don't, the alternative sucks.