One.....Get Busy Living

I’ve been thinking since past Monday what this day would be like. Last day of radiation. I even fantasized a bit last week about what it would be like to have the confetti thrown in my hair.  While contemplating this new future,   I realized that as odd as it seems, for a person who has waited 10 months for this glorious day, there is some fear associated  with moving on.   Not simply the fear that maybe I could still have Cancer (despite my latest MRI results revealing "NED" - No Evidence of disease). It's more than just that.  It has to do with patterns and habits, and with change and with moving forward to a new life.  At this point, now I must move on with my life despite the somewhat temporary nature of this semi- "treatment free" (still must continue the every 3 week Herceptin Chemo through December) period between now and the future surgery (left mastectomy with bilateral reconstruction, which will occur sometime in the New Year).   As one might have guessed, today, the last day of radiation was somewhat of an anticlimax.

 I did get the confetti, I think like ½ a handful, and then, my good friend Lisa, who’s been there from the day of the biopsy, bought me some celebratory foot foam to alleviate these horrid cracks in my feet. The foam was actually pretty exciting.  I was blaming these painful cracks on the cancer treatment, but now after talking to her, it seems that it's possible that it just happened... Age, etc.  I mean, I AM honestly comfortable in my new “duster”. Why wouldn't it go hand in hand that I have old lady cracks in my feet?

See, this is what I'm talking about adjustment...

Please click on this utube link and picture me as Morgan Freeman's character.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7tkzc983aE0&feature=youtube_gdata_player

Like Mr. Freeman’s character in my favorite movie Shawshank Redemption, I feel at times that I’ve been institutionalized by cancer and cancer treatment. Time and again, for the past 10 months, I've given in to the method.  I’ve learned to do what I'm told, wait, and accept treatments that just never seemed like a good idea.

I’ve been beaten down with intravenous toxins and I’ve gotten back up and returned for more... many more. I’ve been stripped of all my hormones, and they’ve literally amputated what I once considered one of my best assets. They've burned my skin, and left me tight, weak and vulnerable.

Armpit Right

Armpit Left

 

 I haven't been on a real vacation in a year.  I’ve learned to exist for this treatment.  It is sick, yet it has become what I know.  I've even found ways to take pride in things like... How still I can lie on the radiation table, or how few breaths I can take during a 30 second zap. I will have to relearn how to be free again, make choices, and how to blame things or problems on something other than cancer and cancer treatment.

I will have to get back up on that horse and ride out to and find my Zihautanho.

 Except, it is no longer safe to gallivant around Mexico so, I will get back up on my feet and find my New Mallorca. See previous post for reference.