Today started out like any other, I woke several times throughout the early morning to go cuddle with the toilet, followed by crawling back to bed and collapsing there, wrapped around the body pillow that has become my best friend of late.
Eventually my alarm went off -- "I'm walking on sunshine, woaahhhhh!! I'm walking on sunshine, woahhhhh~!! And don't it feel good!" -- this was something I found amusing when I was well and was an incredible aid to me waking up in a good mood. The upbeat, cheery singing and fast paced beat had became the ultimate morning song for me. Oddly, these days, I find it has the exact opposite effect. I'm still not sure why I haven't changed it except that maybe I'm worried I'd ruin another song by making it my alarm.
I slowly accepted consciousness, blinking heavily and turning to one side - away from the open blinds of my window which [despite the rain outside] revealed a bright and sunny day.
Showering is a particularly fun task. I find that the heat of the spray makes my stomach do sommersaults and more often than not find myself on my knees, grasping for the bucket I keep beside the shower cubical 'just in case'. Today though, my bucket remained empty, and I went about the task of washing my body and hair of any remains of the nights "rest".
Eventually I was clean, and dried, and dressed [more or less] and threw my hair up into a ponytail. I've learned - over the last few weeks - that it is easier just to keep my hair tied up than to try hold it back when I am crouched unforgivingly over a toilet, or bucket, or gutter, or wherever the mood strikes.
I did the three tap check [wallet - keys - phone] and was out the door, wondering how it could be both so bright and so rainy at the same time, but too tired -- already -- to go back up the stairs to retrieve my umbrella.
The bus to the hospital is slow. The driver knows me by now and gives me a sympathetic smile [I don't want your sympathy] as I sit in the front seat, both arms crossed firmly across my stomach, trying to hold down what little remained in there. I never eat breakfast before radiation -- a lesson I learned on my very first day and learned well.
Finally -- blissfully -- the bus pulls to a stop out front of the hospital and I almost explode out of the door, scratching my arm on the buzzer on the way out. One hand pressed firmly over my - now bleeding - arm, the other arm still wrapped around my stomach, I press the button on the elevator and let my head rest against the cool metal of the door for a few minutes.
The Oncology Unit is fairly large - definitely larger than I had expected the first time - and the nurse on reception greets me with another sympathetic smile [I don't want your sympathy!]. I take my seat in the waiting room next to an old man named Bill. Bill and I are old friends by now and he grabs my hand and squeezes it gently in his own. Its pretty funny but I well up a little - I've been doing this on my own for so long now - even this tiny act of support is so much more than I expect.
I pretend to listen to my iPod [I'm listening to The Hobbit on Audiobook and it's actually really good, even though I've read it about 15 times and could almost recite it along with the reader] until Bill eventually gets called in, and about half an hour later, it's my turn.
My Radiologists name is Alex. He's pretty young, and he makes me laugh a lot. I can't pronounce his last name [it starts with a C and it's kind of Italian sounding?] so he just has me call him Dr. Alex. I like him.
The process has become almost habit for us, I undress in the room just before you enter the room where the radiation machine is and put on the flimsy hospital gown which is folded neatly on the seat. I then pull my shirt on over the top of the gown [something which I don't think you're supposed to do but Dr. Alex seems to 'get' that being naked infront of all these people is scary for me, and he suggested it on the first day of the second week] and go lay down on the bed under the machine.
Alex says it's okay to read or something while it's happening, but I always watch very closely. I can only just barely see him from behind the glass [I can't wear my glasses] but I feel like if I'm watching him he's less likely to give in to some crazy scientist and use me as an experiment or something.
I feel so vulnerable, and my skin has started to blister over the last few weeks. It hurts -- I bite my lip.
It's over within fiften minutes and soon a nurse has come in to usher me to my clothing and helps me get dressed again. Suddenly I'm not as shy as I was about being naked infront of someone else - my head is light and I can't stand up too well.
My doctor makes an appointment on Monday for me to take some blood tests, and fusses around me for half an hour or so, taking my blood pressure and asking questions. He tells me I have to see the therapist - Theresa - more often.
I don't remember much after that, just the 'beep' as I got on the bus and my forehead pressed against the cool glass window. Eventually the driver helps me out of my seat and down the stairs -- she stops at the top of the hill so I don't have to walk so far, even though I don't think she's supposed to do that either.
Eventually I make it home and here I am, writing this. I guess it wasn't such a big day afterall -- it's only 2:11pm. I think I'm going to nap now.
xx. A.
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