"You know," dp said, "I've been doing most of the posting on the blog, so I really don't know much about what you're thinking and feeling about this."
Fair enough. Let me tell you about the radiation thang today first -- I'll need to compose my thoughts.
From a busy-ness standpoint, 4:30 pm is a pretty good time to go in. Both the parking lot and the waiting room are pretty empty.
I got the one-time-only family member tour, and took a camera. From now on, I'll stay in the waiting room. It was actually a little less techy than I envisioned. I mean, there is the multi-million dollar table and rotating micro point radiation beaming apparatus, but the interface pretty much boils down to a Dell computer. No banks of flashing lights or switches and dials -- makes sense, but still a little disappointing...
dp came out of the dressing room wearing her own pants and a lovely patterned poncho-like top. She hopped up on the table, which then rose two or three feet higher to position her under the x-ray. One of the technicians showed me how they align the laser lines on dp's cross marks, and then told me it was time to go.
dp was out about 10 minutes later. Her first comment was that the air smelled different when the machine was operating. They shoot two beams, each for about thirty seconds, and she's done.
dp is the last appointment of the day -- the techs were all out the door before we were. It was only 4:45, so we can avoid most of the traffic. So far, so good. One treatment down, and 24 to go.
So, what's with me? I think I'm maintaining pretty well. I'm proud of the way the dp is handling this, hurting for her, and hurting that that won't take away her hurt. I try to appreciate the good days, which are plentiful, and roll through the less-than-good days. Work is presenting more challenges than problems right now, and creativity is a good stress reliever for me.
3 comments:
So by my count that means 5 weeks of Monday thru Friday daily sessions. Will it always be at 4:30?
The room looks lighter and brighter than most of the radiation rooms I've seen, but they were all diagnostic radiation machines, like mammography and CT equipment. Did they dim the lights for the actual treatment?
And dig the beautiful hard-wood floor!
I appreciate your weighing in, Kevin. You and Diana have a process that works, like most couples with some longevity. I know I have said this, but when I hang out I usually come away feeling good about how you haven't, apparently, let this INVASION alter what works.
My reaction to this stuff, predictably, might be more dramatic. I really don't know how I'll be until I need to be that way. My experience is as a spectator in an inevitably degenerative process. I mention this not in a spirit of oneupsmanship, but as an observation of the hope I feel when I think about you two.
I've had the opportunity to wonder about where the point is, on the Great Continuum, that one decides that enough is too much. I think my mother intended to end things when she found things unbearable. She has not done so.
I think that the power of owls, of perennials, of attachment, and of somewhat random karma draw us all towards the next good afternoon.
I'm looking forward to the next good afternoon I spend with you.
...so relieved to hear from both of you!
...lights were only dimmed for the laser check. Room was lit for the treatment itself.
...we're hoping to move to an 8am appointment the week after next. We'll do the late afternoon thing again next week.
While the floor _is_ beautiful, it's nothing compared to the ceiling. Only problem with it is that it triggers vertigo when they move the table around...
We are looking forward to both of you!
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