On July 23, I snap a picture with the radiation machine, and part with the radiation crew with a thank you card and a box of chocolates. This is round 15 and the end of a season.
The aunt and another aunt then celebrated with an adult beverage. The aunt and I both knew that after we made a toast this would be a goodbye of sorts. We had bonded over this illness, but at the same token the illness for now had come to an end and we were at a loss for words.
Telling her “thanks so much for all of your support, so happy it’s over,” with a handshake or hug seemed awkward. I was at a loss for words, oddly still in shock. The last radiation session feels anti-climactic, but it is broken up by moments when I feel breathless and think, “wow, me, yes me, cancer, me.” I still feel that sucker punch.
The good news, life goes on, time only moves forward. I would be a case number filed away, and this chapter hopefully a memory. Soon my fellow radiation compatriots and the women who were fellow breast cancer conquerors would be in the rear view mirror. I wondered if I would forget about them. I hoped not because they have given me another perspective on life.
Remembering them keeps me in check, especially when I find moments when I am returning to the old self--hurried, impatient, and rattled by others reactions. How hard it is to change oneself. Quitting Diet Coke was one thing, but personality and lifestyle is whole other story. At times I’ve wondered if this disease could change my nature, but as with any aftermath change can move at a snail-like pace.
What have changed are my relationships with the constellation of family and friends. In recent days, I’ve found myself at a loss when talking with the closest friends, many who ask me how things are going with treatment. They mean well, but it is rather emotionally taxing to talk about the radiation round that is now in the rearview mirror.