Garumph!!

They don't list grumpiness as a side effect of radiation treatment, but if my mood this past week is any indication, they should.

As the last of my burns began to heal up last week, the part of my skin which was last to be treated quit getting better, and turned red, warm, mushy, angry. I didn't expect much from the radiation team when I reported the change, but to my surprise, they had me come in the next day.

Turned out to be cellulitis. A bacterial infection.

I have (!!had!!) managed to make it over sixty years without needing antibiotics. I am sad and angry that radiation has broken my streak. I'm not going to get a second chance to equal it. The math doesn't work. *sigh*

The good news part is that if one has not taken antibiotics before they tend to be very effective, and this has proven to be the case with me. Within 48 hours the redness was fading, five days later, the skin was better, the swelling almost gone. 

I feel as if there are two of me running around in my body. 

One of me is glad to be healing; grateful for the intervention of modern medicine. These things which have hurt me are short term. When I get past this hump, they will have given me my best chance to have more good days. No small blessing.

The other me is grumpy and tired. Fatigue - whether it's from radiation or the aromatase inhibitor - is once again my frequent companion. I LIKED not being tired all the time, not having to push through a wall of fatigue to get things done, occasionally waking up feeling rested. 

Like last time I was here, the sad part is that naps don't necessarily help. Sometimes they do, but sometimes I just lie down and stare blankly at the wall, and sometimes I fall so deeply asleep I mess up my sleep at night. I haven't yet figured out where the balance lies, but I'm working on it. 

That said, gratitude is winning the tug-of-war. 

I'm tired, but I'm also not trying to fit in a full day's work. No small thing. 

My one daily commitment to myself is exercise. Because I know I will be less tired when I leave my daily session than when I arrive, it's not too hard to talk me into ignoring the fatigue long enough to get to the gym and get started. 

Beyond that, I peer closely into my energy bucket at the start of the day, and see how much is there. Fortunately, so far, there's always been enough to work on the things I really wanted/needed to get done. One step at a time.

When I was walking Sylvester around the park Sunday morning, I looked up and was surprised to see a rainbow arcing through the sky. A sign of hope.

Grumpy or not, Beauty Is.

No Can Do

My radiation burns have quit surfacing, the most painful ones have healed, and my energy is starting to slowly ramp back up. (For now at least - I'm told radiation fatigue can be a tricky beast.) I'm starting to wrap my mind around my reconstruction surgery, scheduled for the middle of October.

Which has tossed me back into nesting mode. If I'm going to be discombobulated for six weeks, the things must be finished first!

I started with my donation piles which have magically replenished themselves since I did a similar exercise in March. 

I gathered all the electronic waste and happily carted it to its recycle center. I arrived home, looked around, and found a stray old light fixture which hadn't made it into the pile. *sigh*

I gathered all the hazardous waste and happily carted it to its recycle center. I arrived home, looked around, and found a stray bottle of power steering fluid which hadn't made it into the pile. *grrr* (and how did I end up with a bottle of power steering fluid? I topped off the fluid in my Mustang zero times in 19 years...)

I'm beginning to think the Universe is trying to get a message across to me. Something about delusions of control and perfection. 

A part of me, deep down, despite all evidence to the contrary, is convinced that if I do all the things perfectly, everything will be OK. If the house is clean and the closet sorted through and the leaky drain is fixed and the things in the piles of clutter are dispersed to their proper homes and I hold my mouth just right and don't forget to reseed the grass in September, both Kate and I will return to health and have many more good days.

I am so scared to know this is not true.

I want guarantees. I want control. I want to be able to plan with confidence for tomorrow and the tomorrow after that.

Sorry, Buttercup. No can do.

The best I can give me is a reminder about the margarita truck. It's not just me who has no guarantees, who can't control life's path.

I can plan, I 'just' need to know the plans have an asterisk next to them. 

And, I have today. What will I plan to do with this one precious day I have?

Stop. Breathe. Live today.

Radiation Burns

When I finished my radiation treatments two and a half weeks ago, I looked at the burns I had then, and thought, I can get through this. 

I should have read the fine print, which states radiation burns can continue to develop for two weeks (or more!) after the treatments are finished. *sigh* As some sections of burn have healed up, others have surfaced in a slow and somewhat fascinating dance.

Most of the burns, while red and angry looking, didn't hurt as much as I would have thought. I wondered some about this, but have been too focused on using my set of *four* lotions which help them heal to spend much time on it.

Then, the latest burn bubbled up. It's on the rear part of my armpit, well towards my back. And, it hurts! Like a bad sunburn hurts. Don't touch me! Are you sure shirts are required? (Answer: not around the house, they're not.)

What was different about this set?

The answer stares at me every time I look in the mirror. Unlike the other burns, the skin in this section of my chest was not touched by my mastectomies. Which means ALL of the nerve endings are intact and speaking. Not nicely. 

Took thirteen years, but I've finally found a reason to be (temporarily) grateful for the nerve damage on my chest. If I'd have been living with this pain for the last month, I'd have been worn down by it. Especially when it was right in my armpit, I very well might have thrown in the towel and given up my yoga workouts. Which would have meant I would have lost my range of motion because radiation burns don't just affect the skin - they also disrupt nerve signals, and damage the ligaments and tendons beneath the surface. 

As it is, I've spent a LOT of time, in addition to yoga, trying to convince my shoulder to go back and down. The fitness director at my gym helped a lot last week by giving me a private PT-like session, showing me a set of exercises which have made a huge difference. So grateful.

There are two good news parts here. One, the burns have been healing well. My diligence in keeping them properly creamed is paying off. Two, no new burns have surfaced in several days. I think, I hope, when this current set heals, I will be past this latest set of bumps in the road. 

One step at a time.

Unexpected Beauty

The calendar tells me it has been a whole almost two weeks since I finished my last radiation treatment. My burns, while still pretty spectacular looking, are beginning to heal; instead of angry red, the skin is leaning towards maroon and brown. 

Fatigue is what it is. I am grateful naps are an option.

Yoga has saved my range of motion. *whew*

I think I SHOULD be in a happier place. But, no.

I'm tired of cancer. Unlike the Litany of Saints we used to sing in church, which, when done well, lulls one into a lovely meditative state, my litany of pains is a tedious and melancholy list. *sigh*

The heat wave receded this weekend, and I took advantage of the cooler weather to get out in the yard and clean up the multitude of weeds which had flourished in the heat. 

I stepped out Saturday morning to see a cluster of Naked Ladies, also known as Surprise Lilies, in the corner of the back yard. These flowers seemingly sprout from nowhere during the hot days of summer; they have no surrounding foliage - only a stem and the beautiful pink blossom, thus the name. 

Gazing at their beauty, working in the dirt, cleaning up the beds, my litany of pain evolved. 

For the beauty of the flowers, I gave thanks.
For the cool breeze, I gave thanks. 
For last week's rain, I gave thanks.
For a body healed enough to sit on the ground and weed, I gave thanks.
For the sight of my dog, gleefully wriggling on his back in the grass, I gave thanks. 
For the knowledge my cancer is currently NED - in hiding and on the run, I gave thanks.
For the fluffy white clouds, effortlessly floating in the sky, I gave thanks.

For the song of the birds, I gave thanks. 

For the chance to live THIS day, I give thanks.