It feels like a non-cancer kind of day, but I guess just saying it feels like that is proof that my whole life orbits around cancer and feeling good is in juxtaposition of cancer. But it still felt great. My “one and done” radiation session worked! I have a new shoulder that bears weight, lifts my hands to wash my hair, stretches to make the bed… It has minimal pain. The point is bigger than the fix, it is the hope; the hope that medicine can fix not only my shoulder but that it can also kill or deeply, deeply hibernate the cells that want to consume me.
After running a few errands, Tim asked if I wanted to check out Badger Ski Hill Lodge. He had seen the recreation sign last summer, it is about 18 miles out of E. Wenatchee. Of course, locals are laughing behind their hands. The drive is beautiful with mountains barely dusted with snow in the distance. We imagine settlers finding the trees with the accompanying, necessary water to live next to. What we didn’t imagine was a privately built t-bar lift with a rough-hew log cabana at the top. Yes, cabana… an open-air pentagon with 5-foot sides with rotting wicker chairs in the middle (and one chair over the “ski hill”). After rescuing one of the chairs from the hill and walking around in bemusement, we popped over the hill, landed in Orondo, and stopped at my favorite local spot: Lisa Bee’s.
It was normal. But it wasn’t. It was the new normal, and I hate that phrase. I was barely hungry at my favorite restaurant: I am losing my taste buds already; I came home exhausted. I laid down and for the second time in as many days, I am experiencing my previous “chemo nap/sleep” where my body slows down but my brain speeds up. My brain goes on ADHD overdrive with no coherence and random shooting thoughts. I practice my meditation that I have successfully used to get through laying perfectly still for the 45 minute MRI two weeks ago and the hour-long adjusting and radiating experience yesterday. It doesn’t work. I won’t reach for pills for a nap. An hour later I get up frustrated. If I could sleep, I would be able to do more tonight. Without it, I will be tired. But now I am gritching.
I feel good. I feel great. I am grateful. I am thankful for today: an almost non-cancer kind of day.
8 thoughts on “It feels like a non-cancer kind of day (v. 2 to see if comments work)”
You’re “allowed “ to gritch.
I love reading about the beautiful parts of your day. The sleep issue, ugh. One nap at a time? I’m so happy your treatment have you hope!
Gritch away my love.
Keep the sunny good days in the front.
You need to start writing a book, your writing is so unapologetically real. Thank you for sharing your journey.
Glad that you were out and about today! You are in my daily thoughts. Thank you for blogging your experience.
I love you ❤️ I love that you share your journey with us.
I hate cancer
I am thankful you share your “non-cancer “ days with us.
Glad you had a good day. It was wonderful on the west side of the mountains.
Such gorgeous writing, and such a gorgeous, inspiring soul. Thanks for sharing this journey with all of us who love you.