Side effects of the radiation are starting to set in. As of last night, the cumulative effect of being nuked twice a day has become a bit draining. I’m less cheerful than I was 36 hours ago. My stomach is starting to protest anytime I consider eating. Wearing a bra is less comfortable at the end of the week than it was at the beginning. And it was really tough to convince myself to pick up a device and start to compose tonight. I really don’t want to write, but I can’t let myself go to bed until I do, so I find myself being a hostile witness to my own experience.
Some side effects are clearing up, from the summer of chemo. The soft, pale hair coming in on my head is probably a quarter of an inch long, maybe a tiny bit more. It’s still thin, but I can see it from halfway across a room when I see a mirror, so that’s good. I’m itchy in a few places that leads me to believe some body hair will come back too, which I’m okay with. I had people tell me my color is good, but without hair or eyebrows, they were noticing all along the condition of my skin (which has been excellent since I gave up the grains that were destroying it years ago). I had begun to sleep normally until the last few days, so that less of a victory to report. I’m not sure what’s going to happen with my nails. Each round of chemo dug deep channels across my cuticles, each one deeper than the last. As they grow out, I wonder whether the nails will stay attached as they reach the ends of my fingers. For a while, they were so sensitive, I couldn’t put on socks or pull up the covers in bed. I hope that doesn’t happen again, when they finish growing out.
I suppose I’ve kept my promise to myself, and now I can stare at the ceiling while I wait to see which wins, the fatigue that makes me sleep more often, or the sensitivity where the radiation has been going in that keeps me awake.
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