Four weeks since the last chemotherapy and now the beginning of the next step, radiation. As far as the effects of chemo, some are fading and some are still with me. My eyebrows and eyelashes are nearly all gone. I have sparse eyebrows and only a couple of lashes on each eye. I've been chemically plucked! But, on top of my head I have pure white downy fuzz growing. At first (last week) it was like peach fuzz, but now it is getting to be like the soft downy breast of a duckling. It is so soft that I have taken to stroking my own head like a little kid with a blankie. It is not yet thick or long enough for me to be comfortable going public, but it is coming along. I've read that hair grows approximately 1/2 inch per month so maybe by May I might go without a head cover. Pain in my feet and legs is lingering. I am weary of it. I still need alot of sleep.

The radiation treatment itself is quick, noisy, and kind of boring. But it only takes 3 or 4 minutes once they get started. The tricky part is getting me positioned correctly so that the beams treat what needs to be treated and leave everything else alone. I've done this twice so far. I suppose it will be easier as time goes on. I get treatment every day, Monday through Friday, at 2 pm, on my lunch hour. No more period of being able to sit and read or nap or knit as in chemo, I just go in, undress, get zapped, get dressed again, and back to work. It all takes about 15 minutes.

So far there are no effects showing. I expect there will not be for a while yet. That's what I've been told to expect. Funny, the unexpected seems to happen.

This has been a difficult period for me. The long slog through treatment is wearing me down. Fears and worries are mounting and I have a hard time keeping positive. Support from those who were once so concerned about me is waning. I feel quite alone in this part of the journey. Still, a good thing did happen last night. A good friend picked up and called me. I needed a friend to talk to and this call came right at the most needed time. It was a blessing to me. Not the first and I'm hoping, not the last.

Three weeks have gone by since the last chemotherapy treatment. I am slowly beginning to feel better. I still have some pain in my feet occasionally and I feel like I cannot sleep enough. The healing, cells rebuilding themselves, is still taking place. Apparently, it is hard work. I read at breastcancer.com that a woman should give herself just as long to recover as the time from the first diagnosis until the last treatment. I would ammend that to include the time from when you first become aware that something is not right, in my case, the discovery of the lump. Between the discovery of the lump and the day I was diagnosed I was in stress every day, not knowing, but certainly fearing the worst. Stress itself is debilitating. Anyway, if all goes well and the treatment is finished by the end of April, I will have spent 9 months dealing with breast cancer. Nine months is the time it takes in pregnancy to create a new life. I suppose one could say that for me these 9 months will have been spent in also creating a new life, the life of a cancer survivor.

The IV access port that was place in my chest has been removed and the incision is healing. It itches slightly. I guess that is a sign of healing. Anyway, that bump is now gone. The radiologist let me see the device after it was removed. It was white plastic, like an up-side-down cereal bowl with tubing coming out of the side. It didn't look as big as it felt when it was under my skin.

So, I now have had all the appointments to plan the radiation treatment. The doctors and technicians have done the measurements and calculations, the x-rays and CT scans. The "dry run" takes place next Wednesday and then, if all is well, the treaatment begins on Thursday. I don't know how this will affect me. I have been told that there will be a skin reaction. It could be anything from a mild sunburn to open sores. There can be pain in the breast and possibly, some irritation to a small portion of the lung. Everyone assures me that as the treatments go on I will have fatigue. How severe is unknown.

Living with the unknown is a cancer survivor's daily walk.