Tag Archives: radiation

transitions

Painted in Waterlogue

 

In less than two weeks, I will start four weeks of daily radiation therapy.   Somewhere along the way, my hair will begin to grow again.

After that, there will be decisions about medication that holds the prospect of longer-lasting side effects than either the chemotherapy or radiation. It is clear that serious discipline around exercise and nutrition will be required to manage and maintain my health and fitness from this point on.

 

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an ordinary day

In those times when the ordinary is not ordinary, it becomes extraordinary.

Tomorrow includes a blood test and a second planning appointment for radiation. Then there’s Tuesday and even though it’s the last chemo session, I can’t help but face this one with some trepidation. The accumulated effects of the chemicals means that the post-chemo days are more dysfunctional, and there are more of them.

spinachToday, I got to harvest some spinach from the garden and spend time in the kitchen making Spanakopita for lunch. Who knew wrestling with filo pastry could be so therapeutic?

Later, over a cup of coffee and the chess board, my opponent decided we should call our latest game a draw which in my book is a win.

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Before the sun set on this first day of Winter, we took a walk down to the point. The tide was out in a glass half-empty kind of way.

Not for long, not for very much longer.

Oyster Point Sunday

Because I can’t help myself, this final image has been given the Waterlogue treatment. One day, I’ll learn to paint like this instead of relying on the wonders of digital technology.   🙂

Painted in Waterlogue

sunflower

Yesterday saw the first of two visits to the radiation oncologist before the last chemo cycle begins next week.

Having sworn in the past that I’d never get a tattoo, there will be a join the dots game ready to play with soon so that the radiologist can hit the required target.

The good news for this phase of the treatment is two-fold.  Radiation will start sooner than I thought AND it will be every week day for four weeks, not five as I was originally advised.  That means I’ll be done with both the chemo and the radiation in just two months.

After that it will mostly be a matter of “keep taking those tablets!”

sunflower 1 - yellow

 

 

deliberate resilience – a new blog

For the past five years, I’ve been blogging in some way, shape or form. It’s become an automatic response for me to collect and record, to muse and create, to write and reflect, then muster the courage to put it all out there.

You’d think with these babies on the go (SentioNow and Then, Monoculus and The Adventures of Trig the Triceratops), I’d have enough nets to capture a relatively broad cross-section of interests.

Until now. I was diagnosed with breast cancer on 4 March, four short weeks ago. A random and fortunate self-discovery. Found early (enough). Already, there’s a treatment plan in place (chemotherapy, radiation, and tablets) to knock it, and presumably me for a short duration, for six. I considered incorporating what will be the content of this blog into Sentio.  But this writing will serve a different and specific purpose.

It’s about taking a deliberate approach to building and sustaining resilience. I had few options available to me on the medical treatment plan. I have much more choice over my personal approach to what falls out of that treatment. It won’t all be smooth sailing, yet I know that if I approach it as though it’s going to be six months of hell, no useful purpose will be served.

So, whether you’re in the same specific boat as me or not, let’s see how a deliberate resilience approach will work. There is no plan. Just an intuitive feeling that I need to hang on to what sustains me  under ‘normal’ circumstances, open myself up to what’s ahead and write about it.