Day 5: One Week Down
Yup. That’s how I feel today. Except not as black.
Man. What an overwhelming week. I think my brain has just given up. No, seriously. It’s taken me 30 minutes to write these first eight sentences, and that’s including “Yup,” and “Man,” as sentences.
My brain feels demolished, like it was taken out of my head and used as a soccer ball by poor yet resourceful Nicaraguan children, then stolen from them by a Colombian drug mule who used it as a clever storage device (but still felt the need to shove it up the 2-hole), and finally put back into my head by this guy:
Funny thing is, I don’t think most of my fatigue is from radiation. They said that wouldn’t set in until the last few weeks of my treatments. No, I think it’s from adjusting to this big change. I mean, I’m in a place surrounded by people whose biggest shared common interest is not having cancer anymore. I’ve heard three of the five most heartbreaking life stories I’ve ever heard this week. I still can’t navigate Boston for shit. Friends and family are far away. I’m as emotionally confused as a pre-teen boy, by some cruel twist of nature, suddenly getting his first period.
But, on the bright side, my first week of treatments is done and that seems as good a cause as any for some mild celebration. Time to explore Boston.
Five treatments down, thirty to go.