What happened today looking at the clouds. The clouds are crispy around the edges today.
The radiation diaries day 23
There is no destination, no end to the journey.
When I’m think I might be done, I’m back at the start, trying to remember what I forgot.
The most precisely planned life follows the same path as the least precise.
They start and end at the same place.
My path is not unique nor precise.
I wander, observe and wonder, and do my best not to judge, but as a human that part’s not easy.
I’ve gained confidence with my walking if nothing else during the time of my treatments.
Long hallways, inclines, negotiating to and from the car with my stick has built up my confidence.
Lying still on the table while the ray gun does its thing is the easy part.
I’m slow with my walking but I no longer think about falling. That’s kind of a big deal after the events of the last two years. While relearning to walk after the new hip, I am always aware of how far it is from standing to being flat on the floor.
Everything has to be precisely aligned for each treatment of laser guided, beam radiation. I’ve got three new little tattoos to make it all possible. Little black dots to aim for.
Everyday there’s an image, a digital progress report. I come in with a full bladder as instructed because I guess water offers some protection to unintended areas from the radiation. I hear other patients get a verbal reprimand if they
don’t have a full bladder.
I just lie still and let my mind wander visualizing tiny particles bombarding the malignancy; then hurry off to the bathroom when it’s done.
The radiation therapists call me Mr. Barksdale which makes me a little uncomfortable, nobody’s ever calls me Mr., unless it’s a cop writing me a ticket. I’m sure it’s a protocol so I let it go.
Beanie cap sweat pants guy stopped me in the hall today and stared at me intensely from behind his mask. He asked if I’d been having any weird side effects.
I said, yes I have had some unusual sensations, like someone is playing pingpong on my crotch and also forgetting to turn on the hydrant to put out the fire smoldering under the ping pong table.
I told him I was going to speak to the Dr. on doctor day and try to find the words to explain what I’m feeling without making a scrunched up face and see if I could get some insight.
He said good luck with that, and we each carried on in our respective uncomfortable directions down the inclined hallway.
I choose to trust through this process even though I don’t completely understand everything that’s going on.
My mantra is the number of days of treatments remaining.
Today it is three more days.
I think I’m going to have sushi for lunch to c elebrate when It’s done.
My smile will be so big it will leave a shadow as I open the door to go home.
Have I manifested these events as a distraction for what isn’t…
I can’t help but wonder.
There is no destination, no end to the journey.
When I’m think I might be done, I’m back at the start, trying to remember what I forgot.
The most precisely planned life follows the same path as the least precise.
They start and end at the same place.
My path is not unique nor precise.
I wander, observe and wonder, and do my best not to judge, but as a human that part’s not easy.
I’ve gained confidence with my walking if nothing else during the time of my treatments.
Long hallways, inclines, negotiating to and from the car with my stick has built up my confidence.
Lying still on the table while the ray gun does its thing is the easy part.
I’m slow with my walking but I no longer think about falling. That’s kind of a big deal after the events of the last two years. While relearning to walk after the new hip, I am always aware of how far it is from standing to being flat on the floor.
Everything has to be precisely aligned for each treatment of laser guided, beam radiation. I’ve got three new little tattoos to make it all possible. Little black dots to aim for.
Everyday there’s an image, a digital progress report. I come in with a full bladder as instructed because I guess water offers some protection to unintended areas from the radiation. I hear other patients get a verbal reprimand if they
don’t have a full bladder.
I just lie still and let my mind wander visualizing tiny particles bombarding the malignancy; then hurry off to the bathroom when it’s done.
The radiation therapists call me Mr. Barksdale which makes me a little uncomfortable, nobody’s ever calls me Mr., unless it’s a cop writing me a ticket. I’m sure it’s a protocol so I let it go.
Beanie cap sweat pants guy stopped me in the hall today and stared at me intensely from behind his mask. He asked if I’d been having any weird side effects.
I said, yes I have had some unusual sensations, like someone is playing pingpong on my crotch and also forgetting to turn on the hydrant to put out the fire smoldering under the ping pong table.
I told him I was going to speak to the Dr. on doctor day and try to find the words to explain what I’m feeling without making a scrunched up face and see if I could get some insight.
He said good luck with that, and we each carried on in our respective uncomfortable directions down the inclined hallway.
I choose to trust through this process even though I don’t completely understand everything that’s going on.
My mantra is the number of days of treatments remaining.
Today it is three more days.
I think I’m going to have sushi for lunch to c elebrate when It’s done.
My smile will be so big it will leave a shadow as I open the door to go home.
Have I manifested these events as a distraction for what isn’t…
I can’t help but wonder.
I can't help but love you soooo much!
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