So, here we are.
So far, I've undergone 12 out of the 30 radiation treatments to prevent a recurrence of breast cancer.
I am tired.
I am SO tired.
But I'm more than one-third done, which is really good because I am tired and I can't imagine how I'm going to function at all if the fatigue gets any worse.
I am here to tell you that when your doctor warns you about the fatigue associated with radiation, you should listen. It's real. This is not the kind of tired where a nice nap makes it all better --this is a fatigue so deep to the bone that I'm too tired to change lanes if I get behind a bus. This is a kind of fog that has stolen about 25% of my mental acuity--I'm struggling to remember names and dates. Stan has called out for reinforcements.
It turns out that in the process of irradiating the area where the surgeons took the cancer cells out in order to make it a hostile environment for new cancer cells to grow, a lot of healthy cells get damaged, too. And the physical body, ever valiant, is waging its own war to heal those cells, only to have more damage done the next day.
Naturally, I envision the fight as played out in a scene from Star Trek --as one does. (Just look away if you are not a Trekkie.) So, my body is the Enterprise and I keep wanting it to go warp speed, but Scotty is giving her all he's got and I'm still just limping along on impulse power. You read me?
(Oh, like you didn't already know I was a nerd!)
Anyway, I'm trying bulletproof coffee for the brain fog, even though it's obviously not vegan. I'm actually challenging a lot of the restrictions I had placed on myself around my diet because I realized that almost all of my rules around food were fear-based and, well, you know, I got cancer anyway. So, if it fits within my acceptable ethical framework, I'm trying to stay open as I seek the optimal healing diet. I'll have more to say about this in another blog post, assuming Stan ever lets me out of bed.