No to 5:55

I don’t care how cute the grey-haired technician is, he couldn’t talk me into changing my 13:30 nuking for 7 a.m. As I explained to him I would have had to be in the bus stop at 5:55. However, I did show up an hour early for my 11th nuking, so they took me then.

He had a good reason. Five Wednesdays in a row they adjust and service the machine, which explains the nuking schedule of Mon-Tues, Thur-Fri. On the sixth week they give a grand service to the machine starting Thur. afternoon and all day Fri.

Thank goodness, yesterday Fiorella had given me a ride. Exhaustion hit big time and I slept from 23:00 to close to 11:00 this morning. I made it through, happy that I now have three nuke-free days ahead. I even treated myself to pasta pesto at Pasta Primo before coming home for a nice long nap.

The weather is perfect, low 20s with a light bise that produced whitecaps on the lake.
The only downer was that the song played today was too low to really hear. I wasn’t sure of the language or the singer.

16 to go.

Teen Angel

was the song for the 18th nuking.

17 to go.

A puddle

35° and I'm a puddle. Although I tend to be always cold, I can put on sweaters. When it gets hot like this I can only take off so much clothing to go out in public and it has nothing to do with the scar over my nipple but a lot to do with not wanting to gross people out with my aging body or being arrested for indecent exposure.

The cool of the treatment salon is more than welcome. It could have been a better day to have a longer appointment 2.1 songs (Cat Stevens (finishing as I entered), How Deep is Your Love and Cohen's Wild Rose). I wasn't nuked any longer, but they took a little longer in set up.

I'm one-third through. 17 more treatments to go.

The temperature is supposed to drop to the mid twenties on Wednesday. No predictions on the songs that will be played. I wonder if I could bring my own CD. Nuked to Garou???? possibly.

I have no reason to complain

Waiting to be nuked today was a young woman with a long black wig. I suspect she was not thirty. Her breasts were decidedly uneven. I have absolutely no reason to complain.

19 to go

It didn't seem fair to have a dentist appointment and to be nuked in the same day but that is how it worked out. I stopped at the post, and everywhere I looked on the walk down the hill were flowers. Now there are 19 sessions to go. The song that was playing http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_0QLYywmZG8&feature=related I wish I could tell my stepmom, because she fell in love with Claude François when she visited, but I'm not sure she'd remember, and I haven't tried to break through the fog about the cancer.

Personality

Number 21 finished to the song "Personality." I wonder if I'll ever hear a French song. Treatment was a song long...which is a variation of the slang, "It was a song," for something simple.

This time the three technicians were men, and they noticed my miniature book earnings with real paper pages. I explained I was given them because I'm a writer. They wanted to know if my books were in French, and I said no. I'd given a copy of Running to the Puppet Master to my physiotherapist but she reads in English (also in French and Swedish)

My lovely housemate drove me this time, and a stop at a tearoom was necessary afterward.

20 to go. Unfortunately next week they are Mon-Fri.

My housemate is pushing me to call the coupe de feu, the healer by telephone as is the physio, and the nurses. There is a Swiss book of them, but my physiotherapist swears by her.

I will do it Monday. With the four straight appointments, maybe the burning they've warned about will start...or not and it will help. I am curious.

Big wheels keep on rolling

That song did not have time to finish during my nuking yeserday. Today House of the Rising Sun didn't have time to finish.

21 to go.

Tiredness

They warned me I would feel tired with the radiation, but I didn't expect it to hit like it did.

I had my usual energy and then as if some threw a switch I was exhausted, barely able to stay awake. I obeyed and gave into it.

This morning I had to go to Nyon, so I dragged myself up the hill to the bus. Half way through my appointment, the switch was thrown and I was back to my usual energy level, but after getting home the switch was once again shut off. I needed a nap and woke normal (no comments please).

Will this be what it is like for the next five and a half weeks?

Mumble mumble mumble

Overly imaginative

Whenever my daughter Llara was late and hadn't called, I always imagined the worse. She'd been raped on the Fenway, hit by a car. I planned funerals and scholarship funds only to have her appear within a few minutes. The few times she was gone longer was usually due to a misunderstanding, for she was extremely responsible knowing the dangers of an American city and her over-imaginative mom. (I also had to follow the house rule of calling if I were to be late, not always easy in those pre-cell phone days.

Thus when the doctor said I had a swelling over my clavicle, I imagined it was a new tumour. No matter that the area had been thoroughly examined before my surgery.

"Swollen gland from the radio," my physical therapist said, "Normal."

23 to go

This was my only morning radio and I was on the bus with all the school kids at 8:03. The kids fortunately vacated the bus at Bois Caran leaving the rest of the trip quiet and a seat for me. I have mixed feeling about being offered ornot offered a seat--do I look that old, thank you, and why don't you get up and give an old lady a place....

This time they had a little tube that they pasted to me for measurement.

And it was my weekly visit with the doctor who found a slight swelling over my clavicle. My arms were still normal.

He said he'd see me next week: Merci, Danke, Shukran, thank you...

Bittershon

My breast really hurt today

I blamed the radiation...

I blamed the weight of the salt lamp I was carrying form the shop I bought it to COnfederation Centre where I watched Midnight In Paris.

Only later did I realise that the stay in my bra had worked its way out of the fabric and was poking me where the gland is.

24 to go

This time I got the Cardinal room, but more importantly I got them to exchange the one radio treatment scheduled for 7 a.m., which would be mean I would have to be out of the house at 6:45 to catch the bus to make it on time. One other is at nine and the rest around 4.

This time they pinned a little plastic tube to me.

It seems like everyday when I leave the heavens open up.

The penguin on the door

25 to go...

Each dressing room has a bird on the door. I have a penguin collection. Therefore the penguin door was my choice.

I arrived early, they could take me right away thus I was finished 25 minutes before my appointment, sorta like a time machine.

26 radios to go

Julia drove me. Parked in Front. Stopped at coffee machine.

I checked in.

Took of my shirt.

Laid down on table.

Machine buzzed a few minutes

Put on my shirt

Gave me my schedule for the next 26 visits. I end on the 29th of July.

Talked with nurse who wanted to make sure I wasn't stressed.

Also had physio this morning. This is done preventatively... She gave me the number of the local coupe de feu. People you telephone and they heal any discomfort you may have. I know it sounds crazy but there are so many cases that it has worked. This isn't to kill any cancer cells but in case I feel any burning. So far no burning...Like it never happened at all.

I still feel like a fraud because there's so little problem. And there are people waiting for traitement that are really sick

Once again I was told I had a sense of humour. I honestly don't know what I said.

Off for Pizza with S&J.

The Swedish connection

I went into my first physio with no pain and left with no pain. I think the idea is preventative. The therapist, who also treats my housemate, like everyone else I've met is truly professional.

She has a Swedish mother, as dos my internist as does the doctor who did the biopsy. I suppose a Swedish father-in-law, whom I only had met once and he more or less growled at me, is a connection. Thank goodness none of the professionals I've met growl. In fact, they are all a pleasure to know, although I would prefer to have met them over a cup of coffee.

IQ and cancer

A friend, who also has had cancer albeit it a different kind, sent a very interesting article on how treatment is changing.

It mentions smart and stupid cancers. They didn't say which breast cancer was. How do you do an IQ test for breast cancer? Can a smart breast cancer join Mensa?

sixes and sevens

I felt at sixes and sevens today, as my grandmother used to say when there was nothing unidentifiable wrong, just something seemed out of place.

Then I figured it out. I've admitted to being neurotically neat and the object was to get out of the house quickly. My housemate had an appointment with her therapist and I was going to go with her to meet the woman and to set up an appointment for my first physio.

The doctors want me have to nine treatments along with radio to reduce risk of my arm swelling, etc. I'm still sensitive in my upper right arm in the way one would be toward the end of a black and blue that one would be aware of if one pressed on it. I was told this was natural. It also makes sense not to press it.

Then on the walk back to the house I realized why I was at sixes and sevens. The cat had been on my bed as I was throwing on my clothes. The cat is a barometer. Had their been no chance of rain, she would be out making the garden safe from birds, mice and other living creatures.

I hadn't wanted to disturb her.

She was still asleep on the unmade bed when I came back.

I've beautiful new pillow slips and duvet cover in maroon and pink that match my colour scheme. The set was a gift from my housemate for Christmas. The only problem is the cat sheds white hair on the maroon. The solution was to lay the afghan I'd knitted from scrap yarn in a strip, the way I had seen a friend in Alexandria VA do.

The cat will sleep on that. If there were a hankie on top of the afghan she'd settle on that, and if there were a stamp on top of the hankie that would be where she would select.

I'm sure she's shedding on the afghan too. I just can't see it, leaving me neurotic need for neatness in the if I can't see it, it won't bother me category.

A few dirty feline looks were telegraphed my way as I disturbed to return my room to the order I like. When I finished she returned to the bed and fell asleep on the afghan.

And I have my first physio tomorrow with or without the cat on the bed.

Nice feeling

In arranging an apero with my housemate and mutual friend and family, it was a warm fuzzy feeling to read what my housemate wrote. She said that the 14th would work because she wanted to take me to my first radiation the next day so she knew she would be here.

Unlike my eye surgery when she took me probably because she thought I might run away, there is no danger of me not showing up. I want to start it to finish it.

And it is not that it is hard to get to. The E bus drops me at the 1 bus which drops me right near the radiation centre. And there are two other buses, the 8 and 27 just in case I don't like the 1.

She is just being a good friend.

This woman knows how to give support BIG TIME!!!!