My friend Leslie and her daughter arrived on Thursday from Long Island to take me, (feels more like rescue me after this week) from Boston and bring me home.
This has been a hard week, both emotionally and physically. I feel sicker this week than I did last, and the novelty of the travel back and forth has worn off. I like Boston, and I love seeing all my friends, but I miss my home and my family, and my stuff. This will be the end of my third week, and I’m ready to cry “Uncle”, hard to think about having another four weeks to go. How much worse can I feel and still keep up this pace? I’m hoping the tide will turn.
After my Friday treatment, I spoke to the Proton nurse, who gave me something for the nausea, (not supposed to make me more tired), and then she said “the worst of the symptoms usually pass after the 20th treatment”. I think “Oy vey, I only just finished my fourteenth, I will hang on for a bumpy ride until the end of next week, when I reach the magical 20th”. I also think “Universe heal my nauseous, tired body”. Please chant with me.
It’s Friday, number 14 treatment is finished, it’s time to pack up and go home. “Leslie, please bring my chariot and wing me home”. I can’t wait.