Camille put perspective on the situation for me. I was bemoaning facing four weeks of radiation therapy that began yesterday. "Four weeks? That's only twenty days. You can do twenty days, and now there are only nineteen to go." She was absolutely right. It's just five days a week. I'm not used to having anything resembling a weekend in my life and saw a month of driving stretching out ahead.
Allowing forty-five minutes for the trip was cutting it too short. If there had been lookie-loos in the canyon or a traffic jam on the freeway I wouldn't have made it in time. The treatment itself took perhaps ten minutes and all I had to do was lie there. It's totally painless. I met with the doctor afterward who explained that there may be some fatigue later and the skin over the area will appear sunburned. I can deal with that. Then it was the nurse's turn to give me instructions, saying that the doctor would be checking in once a week and all I would need to do was lift my shirt. "Do I get beads?" "Pardon me?" "Well, if I have to flash everyone as if it were Mardi Gras, I want beads." She said she'd check with the head office about that.
I stopped on the way home to buy a new vacuum cleaner. If I have to leave home, I'm going to make the most of every trip. Putting the thing together later, there is one on-board tool for which I can find no spot, no clip, no knob, to put the darned thing. The instructions show me that I have it, but not where it goes. Oh well, that's the least of my worries.
Cam stopped by about then, so I still need to vacuum because Arden is coming for lunch today. Turns out it was my fault she missed the tea. I'd given her the wrong date, and I must make it up to her.
Day One was quite a day. Nineteen to go.