Hope & Radiation

Today I begin radiation.

While they tell me it’s the easiest part of the cancer treatment, for some reason it’s made me feel more vulnerable than anything else I’ve been through.

Last week I had to go in twice to let them take x-rays and mark me up so they’ll know the exact spot to zap.

Maybe I feel more vulnerable because I have to strip down to my waist with my arms raised back over my head while the techs draw all over me with radioactive sharpies.

Maybe it’s because the chamber itself feels like something out of Star Trek.

Maybe it’s because I’ve seen pictures of the blistering that can occur.

Maybe it’s because I’m by myself.

It makes sense to go by myself because it only takes a few minutes and it doesn’t make you feel bad or anything. So I don’t really need anyone to go with me.

But still.

I think I’m just going through a spell of really being tired of all this. If you’ve ever had an illness that lasts for an extended period of time, you know that you reach a point that you’re just done. It’s just hard. And even though I’m through the worst part of treatment, I’m still not finished.

I won’t be until next September.

And already, going to doctors’ appointments and treatments and scans and getting poked and prodded just gets old.

I’m ready to feel like myself again. Look like myself again. Fit in my clothes again.

Feel my feet and hands again.

But for now,

I’ll remember loved ones whose cancer treatments make mine look like a walk in the park.

I’ll remember that I’m here.

In this season of hope.