Today was my last day of radiation therapy. As promised, it was significantly easier than chemo, but I’m not normal either. Well, that’s a stupid turn of phrase for me…I’m never normal. Um…it’s not as easy as no treatment, let’s go with that. The first 2.5 weeks were deceptively easy with only a weird reverse tan line situation going on for frankenboob.
Last week (and the last few days) the exhaustion hit pretty hard. A 20 minute nap was consistently 2+ hours. I slept past 10am all weekend and napped on the couch, just like the worst of chemo only without the less dignified side effects. The nurses say that’s exactly how it’s supposed to be when you microwave-poison* your chest for weeks.
Also, my skin is angry with me and inside feels like someone’s been punching me in the chest for a few days, so that’s super fun. But it’s done and now I just have to wait and wear SPF 10,000 for the rest of my life.
The only big deal left for this whole ordeal is to get my port removed, which is happening later in July. My eyebrows and eyelashes are even mostly back. Wahoo to that.
In other news:
The wasps appear to have given up on the deck/door area. I think they’re building at the apex of the eaves of the garage, which is perfect. When the nest is big enough, I’ll spray with one one of those 20′ wasp killing foams (I don’t have a ladder that would reach up there, and I’m not THAT stupid anyway).
I’m 26k words into the Banshee book. This is a thing because I have plans to add pages to this blog for short stories in the same universe as the book (series) and eventually for book excerpt/links.
The proposal for Llewellyn is also coming along, although a little slower because I have some research to do. And honestly because I’m tired enough to only have capacity for one project at a time it’s been a little on the back burner. However, I got an email today with the Solstice 50% off sale from the publisher, and I’m taking that as a reminder to get my butt in gear.
Technically that’d be get my butt in the chair, and my fingers in gear. A conundrum since my Onco doc wants me moving more, not sitting more. Maybe I need a treadmill desk. HAHAHAHAHA.
I suppose this post counts as notice that my blog is about to revert from “poor-me-cancer-updates that I don’t have the energy to provide to people individually” back to “what the hell, universe” and writing. Thank you for all the support for me and Frankenboob for the last 9 months or so! If you started reading here for cancerous updates, I promise I’m not always a morbid weirdo: usually I’m just a weirdo.
*Yes, I know radiation isn’t microwaving, but it IS a beam of invisible energy that cooks me from the inside out, so can we agree to just let me use that incorrect comparison for the sake of a shorter sentence?