PAIN

I just couldn't think of a more apt title. OH. EM. GEE. 

Let me tell you, I am ONTO that whole oncologic radiology community, I am. I understand their timing, I do. 

You see, one is prescribed six weeks of daily radiation, with a follow-up appointment about three weeks AFTER it's all over. Fine. No problem. Well, except for the uncomfortable table one must lie upon and having to hold one's breath eight times for 30+ seconds during each treatment. Other than that, the treatments are brief and the personnel pleasant. (And the deep breathing is probably a healthy exercise).

One is given all kinds of literature, including that advising on how to care for irradiated skin. Coconut oil, of which I have plenty on hand (thank you, Costco), is one of the recommended treatments. 

Yes, I did notice my skin gradually showing some light sunburn-like effects over the six-week course, but nothing I couldn't handle, thanks to experience and my Irish ancestry...

UNTIL...

...the three days or so following the last treatment. OH. EM. GEE. Such pain! I found myself slathering on coconut oil 4-5 times per day. My poor dried-out, red, peeling skin just drinks it in, as does whatever old T-shirt I have chosen to ruin. As of this writing, it's been one week since the last treatment and I have by turns slathered on coconut oil and four types of lotion. Apparently my daughter and I are quite the collectors of skin hydration. I'm almost to the end of an expired tube of hydrocortisone. That and some left over hydrocodone have allowed me to sleep for the past two nights. Oh, and did I mention wine? That, too. Yep. Sorry, Lent. 

It seems that the follow-up appointment is purposely scheduled for when the patient is no longer suffering. HA! I'm onto you, you...you radiation oncologist, you! 

It seems as if the pain is letting up just a little. Just. A. Little. I had felt as if parts of my chest skin were going to split open but, today, not so much. Whew! I will be so grateful when I can wear clothes again and venture out into the world. Being quarantined with this Covid 19 virus has come in handy for that reason. 

Speaking of Covid 19, I can't help but reflect on where I was exactly a year ago; in isolation in a hospital with sepsis. Thank God that was last year and not this year. A year ago today was the last day in which I had to self-administer antibiotics via syringe through my chemo port; a procedure which required that I don a mask and gloves three times a day. THAT was a scary time. 

But I digress.

I just wanted to record the pain of my poor, irradiated chest skin; a pain that has almost...ALMOST brought me to tears, but not quite. This is the last battle of my personal war against "The Big C." I hope.