Crack of Dawn

I have had a lot of friends ask me questions about radiation.  I guess I didn't explain it well.

Even though I had a lumpectomy and it was determined that the cancer had not spread, cancer cells are tricky little devils.  Unless they have multiplied, they can be too small to be detected.  Radiation will destroy these cells and, therefore, prevent them from growing.

I have not asked where they come up with the number, but I am getting 33 days of radiation.  33 days minus weekends.  My first day was Feb. 4 and my last one will be March 20.  This is what happens at the crack of dawn at my house (pun intended):

-alarm goes off at 6:20
-hit snooze
-9 minutes later it goes off again
-groan, hit snooze
-9 minutes later it goes off again
-turn off alarm and groan again LOUDER (because Jason should be awake too, right? I need sympathy from someone at this ugly hour)
-go to the bathroom, splash water on my face, take my vitamins, and brush my teeth
-go to my closet and put on something warm (because it is freezing out!) grab socks (to be put on once I get downstairs - see previous post) and grab a hat
-unplug phone and head downstairs
-let dogs out, warm up car
-feed dogs, eat a yogurt, put license, credit card, and radiation card in back pocket
-put on socks and shoes and head on out
-drive to Cancer Center
-park in garage, hide phone in glove compartment, grab lotion, and head to building
-take elevator down to basement level (is this because of the radiation??? Haven't asked.)
-scan radiation card, go to dressing rooms, undress from waist up, put on gown
-sit and wait to be called
-walk to back, get asked, "Name and birthday, please."  "What are we treating?" (One day I said my right testicle.  I thought it was funny...)
-lie on the table, arms above my head, gown down to my waist, techs adjust me so everything lines up (I have 4 stickers that are covering Sharpie Xs and, of course, my 3 tattoos that they use to line me up with the machine.  This is to make sure the radiation hits the same spot every time.)
-techs leave and for 2 minutes (I timed it) the machine rotates and shoots radiation at me
-techs come back and help me up
-walk back to dressing room, put lotion on breast and under arm, get dressed, take elevator back up
-say something cute to the parking attendant and drive home
-walk back in the door at 7:50

The main side effects are blistering and fatigue.  I have not had any blistering - knock on wood - and have joked that I don't know how I could be any more tired.  Well.........I was wrong!  I am beyond tired.  I am beyond "stayed up too late studying for exams" tired.  Beyond "just had a baby and haven't slept in months" tired.  Beyond "just had a baby and am going through chemo" tired.  I am not even going to try to come up with some cute way to say what it is like.  I am just tired. All. The. Time.

My skin has also started to discolor.  It looks like a tan, but more of an orangey, bad color tan.  It makes me think if that episode of Seinfeld where Kramer's apartment was being lit up from the neon sign from a fried chicken place.  I am also having some pain in the armpit area.  This is normal.

So, I am bald with some black fuzz.  I have scars from a lumpectomy.  I have scars from them taking out lymph nodes.  My skin is orange.  My armpit hurts.  I am tired.  My taste buds still aren't 100%. And I cannot stop smiling.

I drove home from my first radiation treatment and was listening to The Fish.  "I Need a Miracle" by Third Day was playing.  (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bTjimzpyE4k) It got me thinking....

There are some who get a diagnosis that won't have a happy ending.  I can see them praying to God and bartering.  "Take my hair, take my breasts, have food taste bad, etc, etc.  Just let me live."

When I first got my diagnosis, one of my first thoughts that caused my breath to catch in my throat was not seeing my boys grow up.  It still scares me.  But today, all signs point to me seeing that happen.  So things have been put into perspective for me.  I may not look that great when you see me, but I am going to be around for a long time to hopefully make you forget that.  When you see my scars, see someone who fought like hell to be around for her boys (Jason included).  When you see the wrinkles around my eyes, know it is because for a year, I took everything they could throw at me to make sure cancer stayed away and it wore me out.

But soon I won't be tired and I will enjoy the life God helped save.  Soon this will be behind me and when my alarm goes off at 6:20, it will be for something fun.