Part Sixty-One: Interlude

On Wednesday, Dr. Nguyen took a look at my radiation-burned breast and cancelled my treatments until Monday.  She said my skin needed another rest before the last two treatments.  I am glad that someone who knows her stuff is watching out for me. 

I can no longer use the prescription creams that are supposed to help heal my skin because they sting so badly.  So I am trying something recommended by a friend:  Aquaphor.  It, and the passage of time, is helping.  The stabbing burn is fading even though my skin remains a hot red. 

I wondered how I would spend my two treatment-free days.  Could I make some progress on the messy house or the stacked-up files or the writing so easy to neglect?  Would I take a few walks or actually cook something for a change?  Evidently not. 

Thursday morning started with intense charley-horse cramps in both calves.  The left one went away but the right one did not.  I managed to hobble to the kitchen to prepare toast and coffee.  After eating the toast, drinking the coffee, and reading my morning devotional at the dining room table, I tried to get up.  I could not.  The right leg reacted with excruciating pain whenever I tried to straighten it or move it.  So I waited, very slowly tried brief stretches, and eventually—about two hours later—was able to stand and hobble again.  

Today (Friday) found me completely wiped out.  I got up for breakfast, went back to bed, got up an hour or two later, went back to bed, and finally got up and stayed up after 2 pm.  I am determined to go to dinner with a friend at five as planned, and I have started laundry, but that's it for today. 

Earlier during radiation therapy I had wondered how I would know when radiation fatigue set in.  After all, I have been tired for twenty years with fibromyalgia.  Well, now I know.  I am told that the fatigue will take several months at least to dissipate, the skin redness and soreness several weeks.  In the meantime, I am re-adjusting my expectations for this spring: a day at a time. Slow and easy. Gradual increase in physical activity as I tolerate it.   

I am grateful to have medical professionals watching over me.  I am grateful to have my loving Father watching over me.  I am glad that my worth in God's sight is not measured by how much I can do but by whose I am.