Friday, December 7, 2012

Radiation Vacation

Mo's Creations ~ beautiful, huh? I have to give the toolbox back after Christmas:)
I seem to be having a hard time gathering my thoughts enough to create an interesting post for you-all. They scatter here & there more than usual. A friend told me this was the case with her also when she was on one of the same meds. *whew* So that's why I haven't updated for a while.

Today will be my nineteenth out of thirty treatments, so I feel as though I'm coming down the home stretch... Come On Sea Biscuit! the crowd in my head roars.

Today's appointment was pushed back until 6:10 tonight... because the machine broke down. Ummm, huh? I wouldn't want to be the person it broke down on, nor the first person to go after it has been fixed. My one nightmare as I lie strapped to the plank under the humming machine is that it will run amok and keep radiating me until my neck burns away from my body, while the techs frantically try to turn the machine off.
There. I said it.

Christmas lights covered in snow.
I put up lights & decorations (such as they are) several weeks ago. I sure like me some Christmas lights!

Thin & crispy ~ not what I was going for. 
I saw a cooking show where Sand Tart cookies were featured. My mouth watered as I viewed the soft, puffy cookies. "I'm going to make them!", I vowed, and got the butter out to soften. Well, I screwed up somewhere along the line because instead of soft, puffy delishishment, I got hard, crispy, radiated throat-ripping flat cookies that sat around the house for days and were finally banished to the trash can. The first time I can ever remember throwing away cookies :(

Elephant Eating Chart
So says Miz Ellie

And here's a snappy saying from my antiquing bud, Ellie Carroll, who always has such a sunny outlook on life :)

How I'm Feeling (Bitch & Moan section)

At my eighteenth treatment, I am on Gabapentin; a nerve pain reliever, Magic Mouthwash; a numbing agent, a mouthwash for thrush (a condition that seems to come with the radiation territory), a topical numbing gel for the inside of my mouth, a (what I think is a) mild narcotic for throat pain and (Oh how it kills me to say this word...) a STOOL softener because all the meds do a number on the pipes. Oh, plus fluoride for the teeth every night. I was contemplating getting myself a pretty pill case then thought in horror: "Old Lady-hood is raising its ugly head". Plastic baggies will do just fine for a few more weeks.

Laundry Station
a.k.a. Dining Room Table
My throat & mouth still hurt, despite the meds & I am tired lots. Instead of doing the wash, cleaning & marketing all in about a half a day or so, I now choose which one task has to get done. The family is not complaining one bit, and in fact, probably don't notice the wafts of dog hair. As long as clean underwear and socks magically appear on the dining room table, they are fine. 
Bless their hair covered hearts.


  1. God Bless you! LOVE the Elephant analogy, so glad Dad can help you get through this one bite at a time. Love you!
    Renee Harrington

    1. I think of Dan a lot, Renee:)
      You have your own Jersey Shore elephant to eat, huh?


  2. I see the tusks remain unclaimed. Best. Glad you started at the ass end. Speaking of... the pill case made you feel like an old lady and not the stool softener and (blessedly) not the treatments? No. You are more of an old broad.

    Jab the tusks right into cancer shmancers gonads. That is my general answer for everything.

    Sincerely old and crusty broad.

    1. Oh Munch, you make me snort coffee out of my nose every time, in the approved Old Broad way:)

  3. And this is an email from My Brother Bill...

    A pretty pill case provokes images of "ladyhood". Many of my friends use pill cases (I am a decade ahead of you, remember). Not because they want to. Because they need to. I recall an overnight stay with Kansas City friends Dutch & Ramona where the next morning I observed Dutch gazing with focused contemplation at the array of lids on his pill box. After dilated deliberation he began to purposely invade specific hatches to lay out the prescribed inventory for the AM consumption. Color had significance. Each hatch cover was a specific color, a key epithet towards successful medication.
    Color, sadly works to no avail for other good friend Bruce as he is colorblind. His pillbox has what appears to be Braille inscriptions. It was hard for me to tell as I cannot see that well w/o my glasses.
    Both these guys ascribe a high level of diligence to this daily ritual, much like the fledgling pilot's triturate preflight inspection. I conclude this pillbox business to be a part of all developed nation denizens who last long enough.
    It is our destiny.
    On a resonant note you share the observation that your primary daily chores have lately been narrowed down to "one task to get done" for the day. I believe it was your sage husband who shared an observation relayed to him by a young insurance salesman about "old people". Something about never crowd old customers agenda as they limit themselves to one appointed task per day. I am not there yet but I do recognize a trend in that direction. The variables and deliberations driving such behavior merits another 500 word essay.

    I admire your persistent ability to communicate and find humor as you move through this phase of your life.