One last time...

       My last radio session was different in two ways. I only discovered last week that the sessions can be of higher intensity and noted on Monday that the machine 'fired' at me from seven directions instead of five. On my last session this was back to five.
         The other difference was the notable friendliness of the staff saying goodbye and good luck. The most friendliness in eight weeks!
          So it is all over now. What do I think and feel? My last posting covers a lot of this. The other thing to add is that it has not really penetrated to the deeper levels of me....psychologically I mean!....that it is over.
               Now I wait. Will keep you posted.

Breakdown

     It happened twice last week: the radiotherapy machine was having a bad patch and stopped working after we were already there waiting, as I say twice. At least we did some shopping one day and saw our children the other.
        Now this is my last day......it has been a wearing process. And  it is two or three months until I get the all clear.
        I feel like there are some things I will miss.One is always having something to do in the afternoons, a trip out. And then there is the more illusive and surprising sense of missing having cancer. Those of you that have read this all through will know that I have benefited from much kindness. It has not been everywhere I have looked for it, nor consistent, but definitely there. I will miss this and have resolved to give out more kindness to others so the relationships of kindness continue.
          I am pondering what else I will miss. If I am honest there is a sort of buzz in all this: a weird excitement. I will miss this too.
          I might even miss writing this blog ......for completeness though I will at minimum tell you about today's last treatment and what I am wanting to assume will be the good news when it comes.

Six of the Best

         It has rained a lot this month, apparently the most since 1946. This has no relevance to my cancer except context....I find it is easier to feel optimistic when the sun is shining. This is why I moved to Andalucia.
          It has also been very windy (no jokes about bowel side effect please) which can be pretty tedious ( the outdoor wind I mean) and discourages the out door time we all crave at this time of year.
            Six more sessions to go. It would be five but the bloody suite had a a door failure so we drove there an hour but had no treatment and drove back.
            Despite all this six sessions means the end is within sight and my stress levels are diminishing.
             And perhaps best of all I have a feeling that the cancer has now gone.

Stressed, me?

    I was talking today to a woman friend who has breast cancer and is being treated with chemotherapy. I am very grateful not to need this. We both seem to be emotionally labile and concluded it is a stress related thing. It is not however clear why our respective treatments cause a lot of stress.
       I am certainly more stressed now than when I had cancer but no treatment. It seems to be an accumulation of small stresses. There is the drive of an hour each way. There is the reminder that I have cancer every time I pee and it hurts. There is being manhandled on the treatment table to get me in exactly the right position. None of these things amount to much on their own but together add up to a wearing experience accumulating over each weeks five days of treatment.
        I do meditation and keep life as simple as possible yet I know I will be very relieved in ten days time when it comes to an end. I also have a suspicion that I will somehow miss it all!

Sometimes....

   Some days recently I have been struggling to understand what is going on for me emotionally. One hour I am feeling positive, happy and the next deeply tearfully sad. I find I can go along on a reasonably level path, then something happens that I think I would normally cope with and I plunge in to a abyss of sadness or become disproportionately angry.
    Recent financial discussions with an associate have left me feeling drained and each time I have picked myself up and responded he has come back with a seeming unhelpful response, culminating  in the most unhelpful of all. Would I cope with this any better if I did not have cancer and radiotherapy to deal with ? I do not know. I hope so.

Doctor, doctor, send in the bees.

         There has been a delay in my posting as we stayed in a flat in the city where I have my treatment last week. My laptop seemed to dislike the WiFi.
          Doctor patient relations seemed to reach a low ebb ten days ago when she offered me a prescription which I turned down. The mistake was one I had made before. When a Spaniard asks how you are, do not say 'Regular' which despite translating as the same word in English prompts noticeable concern. Better to say, as I did this week, 'Bien, mas o menos' (Fine , more or less). Then I ended up with a prescription I did want.
         Another change for the better is a positive visualisation. Radioactivity has a bit of a bad press, not helped by the warning signs all round where radiotherapy suite. So it is easy to feel pretty damaged by the treatment, especially as the side effects increase. In order to counter this a little I have laid on the treatment trolley and as the machine started to hum, I have imagined tiny cancer cell eating bees zooming into my prostate and feasting, then emerging replete to flutter off.
        

Thinking about feeling

It is a curious fact that the hospital I go to infantalizes it's patients. Choices are not given. Little is explained. One is ordered around.This has pushed me into a child like response, heightened my fright of the radiotherapy machine and diminished some of my adult thinking. It has also had the unexpected result of what I believe is the release of childhood feelings related to my rather loveless upbringing. It is good to realise that not all this weight of feeling comes from having cancer.