Last day of radiotherapy and I bring a big bag of sweetie goodness to the nurses. The doctors get nothing (sorry Doc), I've seen a different one each visit and they invariably need to glance at the chart to remember my name.
The nurses, the same three every morning, 9.20am without fail help me onto the radiotherapy 'bed' (falsly giving the impression that it is somewhere you can relax!), know the name of my cat, know that he has a slight weight issue (ie he likes to stuff his face repeatedly and the concept of being 'full' completely escapes him). They know what book I am reading as they comment on it every morning while I sit in the waiting room, they know that my mum recently came for a visit. They know lots of things about me. They have been there at every step offering encouragement, so on the last day of my radiotherapy treatment, what better way to repay their kindness than a giant bag of cookies, chocolates and sweeties for their 10am tea break (the surest way to a woman's heart is sweeties).
I am unsure today. Unsure if I'm uncomplicatedly happy. I should be happy...last day of treatment, last day having to come into the hospital. After my last radiotherapy session, I go to see the consultant, a different one than last time (no surprise there), he asks how I'm doing (he means physically as that's all they are concerned with), I tell him fine (I think) and he signs me off.
You will be back in in three months for check up.
Ok, I say. Unsure.
What do I do now? Skip off in to the sunset? Surely I need to book another appointment, schedule another test, note another date for my diary.
But no. That's it.
That's it?
That is SO not it!
I'm on my own now, flying the cancer journey solo...Oh dear god....watch out below!
As I leave the ward the nurse, my favourite one, walks me to the door.
Don't forget to keep moisturising. Your skin will get worse in the next 10-14 days, so keep it moisturised.
Huh? Worse? But I thought that the radiotherapy was over, my skin, pink and all as it was, had survived. Horrah for the tough elephant skin on my chest....it had lasted the five weeks of radiotherapy, no cracking, no chapping, no breakages, granted I spent all day, every day lathering the cream on to it. My cotton t-shirts could practically stand up on their own at the end of the day they were so caked in cream. My bed sheets sometimes had this slimy layer on them (attractive.....ewwwwww).
I had been so careful. Determined even, to make sure that my skin would not crack.
I will not break!
So now she is telling me it gets worse.......
Ah well, never mind. I will cream myself into making sure that it does not get worse. I will, with an iron determination, make sure that radiotherapy stays beaten.
With that determination I make it out of the building in one piece. I make it to my car and I get in. Sit very still in the parking lot and realise that I'm in the same spot.
The same spot in which I parked the very first day. The day the doctor used the words cancer and 96% positive. The day I thought for sure that they had made a mistake. That day, almost eight months ago where I had cried down the phone, in a panic to my sister.
That seems like a lifetime ago.
And it is, that lifetime is long over and I'm in a different life now. I've morphed into something...something, well I'm not so sure what I've changed into.
But I still have to remind myself that I have had cancer and now my treatment, as I know it, is over.
I take myself home, determined not to let the sense of panic overtake me.
Radiotherapy, beware - I will cream myself into health if it's the last thing I do.
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