Graduation Day!
I climbed
down off the terrible table in the radiation room today, and this “diploma” was
laid out for me. Signed by my therapists at the Norris Cotton Cancer Center. I
first dubbed them “The Radionettes” in this accounting when we began six weeks
ago.
They never
missed a literal beat, piping in the right music for the right day without a
miscue.
To Duke, Jen,
Tracy, Kristen, Lisa and Kerry, your words and deeds of encouragement and
guidance were unfailing. You’re a class act, and I thank you for helping me to
see through the mist. You said be patient, hang in there, steady on, and I’d
come out the other side.
Well, I did.
Today!
(And it didn’t
hurt a bit that you played: “You Can’t Always Get What You Want”, your last official
act as my radiation therapists and disc jockeys.)
It was unnerving
to hear from my inner circle, that at this point (the end of this phase of
chemo/radiation), I can expect things to get worse before they get better, for
at least two or three weeks. I’m now moving toward restoration of this besieged
body, and a reconciliation between me and the occupying force.
Right this
minute, I don’t see how this aggravated throat and my chest’s radiation burn could
be any worse, but just knowing we made it through, even though there’s more temporary
descension ahead, is strangely empowering.
Sure, the idealist
side of me thought: last day of chemo and radiation? Presto! Change-O! Healed!
I knew
better, of course, but I let my heart do too much of the thinking there, and it
beat the crap out of my head.
So, my “diploma”
reads:
“… with honors in courage …”
That part belongs to Diane.
More as we go, El
P.S. And, yes, they used “Bradley” in the credits. It’s
from another home room assignment long ago, but I’ll still answer to it in a pinch.
