Diagnosis +67, Post-Treatment Day 2

Been awhile since I've blogged.  I haven't had too much to say - the days have been a pretty continuous stream of the same sort of thing - basically dreading each visit to the Chamber of Horrors.  I've finished the full course of pre-op chemo and radiation therapy.  So today should be the worst day in terms of pain.  Usually, after a weekend off from radiation, I start to feel better on Tuesday before the new radiation makes things worse again.  But now that I'm done, I'm hoping that I see improvement on Tuesday and that things get better.  Hopefully within a week I'll be able to go to work again, but frankly, right now I'd just like to be able to visit the bathroom without screaming.

I thought I was pretty good at handling pain, but that's because I'd never felt real physical pain.  I'd like to meet a woman who has experienced labor and the same cancer treatments that I have, so that she could compare the two.  Because I've got to imagine that labor feels a lot like what I've been experiencing.  Except that labor lasts a lot longer, but is over more quickly (that actually makes sense, although it doesn't seem to).

I've made a concerted effort to regard the pain as union with Christ's sufferings - I can't say I have had any spiritual awakenings.  I tried very hard to view each visit to the Chamber as a soteriological opportunity rather than something to be afraid of.  But I can't do that.  I dread each recurrence and will put off each attack as long as I can.

I'm a hell of whiner!   Poor Elizabeth has to put up with my moaning and whimpering, as well as the constant stream of whining that comes from our children.  The woman needs a break!!!

Well, in more important news, the University of Dayton is in the Sweet 16.  Woohoo!  Go Flyers!  It's great to see them burning couches again in Ohio.  I have mixed memories of the 1990 NCAA run when I was at UD.  Mostly I remember the aftermath of the ghetto riots.  I bet I can blame my cancer on inhaling the fumes of burning tires.  Or were the burning tires at St. Patrick's day?  I can't remember.

Now my faithful readers reader, I promise to get to work on Part V through VIII of "There's a Mass Up My Ass."  I know that you're desperately waiting for the conclusion to my epic poem.  It's on the way, I promise...