Melancholy with a Capital M

Today was indeed the end of formal treatments as number 35 of radiation in seven weeks is in the books. I have resigned myself to riding in the backseat the past couple of weeks in order to minimize my nausea. Coach Patterson took me over on Tuesday in a driving rain storm. We looked like a couple of old grizzled combat veterans on a "mission" to Burlington. I thought today would be different,sort of like euphoria surrounding my persona, but that was not to be the case. When I entered the radiation room for the last time, I actually thought I might heave but somehow I kept things under control. I have a little phlebitis on my two forearms from the IV insertions when I was in the hospital. Dr. El-Khoury said not to worry and that I was on target. I treat them, or should I say Diane, with warm moist compresses four times a day--add this to our list of activities and meds Diane keeps track of daily.

At the end of our visit with Dr. El-Khoury, he mentioned the PET-scan will be done in about 12-14 weeks. At that time, we will find out if there are any active cancer cells in my body.

As the photos above show, upon our departure we were met by David and Gretchen Miller who have been there from the beginning in Florida. I felt horrible but as they were hugging Diane and giving her a bottle of champagne for consumption when I am better, I found myself hiding behind cars attempting to throw up when I had nothing to throw up. These are embarrassing moments but they come with the territory. From the fine folks at the Cancer Center, they gave me "my mask" and a "comfort blanket" for the journey ahead.

I have been warned throughout that the worst is yet to come over the next couple of weeks in terms of fatigue and general malaise. Folks, that time has arrived. My attitude remains positive but I just have no zip. And damn it, my throat HURTS. This all will pass, and I look forward to waking up tomorrow without a trip to Burlington. Hopefully, I can begin to ingest a bit more "product" in order to gain weight and strength. Within the next 10 days or so, my goal is to actually take in something orally.

There's no doubt about it. I'm losing some of my hair--mostly in the back where the radiation was directed. Not sure if it will grow back. Taste buds are shot now but may come back in 4-6 weeks--the same with salivary glands. So now the time has come to recover, and that will be done in baby steps, but let us assure you it will be done as this is no way to live one's life. As I've said from the onset, the diagnosis sucks, treatment is difficult, but the prognosis is bright. Today marks a new beginning. And as Jackie Gleason would say, "and a way we go."