Two full weeks out from my final radiation treatment, I feel well. Still kind of tired at times. Lately I am in bed between 9 and 10 pm, where I have a standing date with Barnabus Collins via my little Kindle Fire (I still have not read one book on it and my pile(s) of hard covers continues to grow). I usually last through one or two episodes, then it’s lights out. I wake up feeling refreshed, no aches and pains until mid afternoon when I start to walk like I’m 90 years old. A cat nap fixes me right up. All in all, no complaints.
Yesterday we had a celebratory lunch at a restaurant owned by a close family friend. She and her daughter told me how good I looked. That I glowed. My response was “that’s the radiation!”. Later that evening I was blaming my “glow” on hot flashes. I imagine it’s a combination of the two. Or it could be that my new feeling of wellness actually does show on my face. In any event, it was nice to hear. Even if family and friends are contractually obligated to tell you how great you look at the end of cancer treatments.
I have been losing time again. As in I have to look at a calendar several times a week to remember the day of the week, date, etc. I don’t think it’s remnants of chemo brain so much as time this past year, particularly the last two months, has ceased to exist in any meaningful way other than how many more months, weeks, days to the end of treatment and how many days, weeks, and now months, it has been since my sister passed away. I’m trying really hard not to focus on how many years (!) until I can truly say I beat this and be certain.