Not broken, just cracked.
Ten days after my last radiotherapy session and I can see my skin begin to flake away.
If you're squeemish, I don't know if you should read on.
Layers of skin began to weep away from under my arm and across my chest, the area becoming runny. Every movement I could feel in excruciating detail. In the mornings I would put a plaster under my armpit to stop the material of my clothes flaking off even more of my skin.
And then one morning, whilst applying bandages I noticed that there was a patch of pink skin, new and shiny. A line, almost exactly along the band of the radiotherapy heralded the arrival of new skin.
Oh thank god...I am regenerating and the end is almost here.
It took several days, longer than a week, longer perhaps even than two weeks. I tried not to count the days, to concentrate on something else, the lack of hospital appointments, the lack of needles, the lack of my radiotherapy 'bed' and it worked.
Little by little I was filling in the cracks which had appeared in my skin, little by little I was regrowing, renewing.
And boy is it tiring work.
Sleep, sleep...glorious sleep.
So much for thinking that I was done with afternoon naps...no way....a daily necessity.
My hair is growing back slowly, filling in the bald patch and my nails are doing something funky.
So far, I have managed to keep them but I dont think that will last too long. I think the cells that can be discarded after the chemo and after the radiotherapy are being dumped....a slow and arduous 'Man Over Board' moment when my body gets rid of whatever it can and concentrates on renewing.
I may be cracked and a little broken but sometimes out of cracks come good things.
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