After cancer treatment, I think we all must look like a sailboat pushed off from the dock. We need puffs of fresh breezes and some sort of map so we may proceed.
Pushing off from that dock, that is hope. Hope with a capital H. We leave the medically guided treatments behind, knowing we are out there in the boundary-less ocean under our own steam. We steer the boat. We make sure there is wind in our sails.
You do it your way. My way is asking God to be the power of the wind, and at the same time be the gentle whisper of direction. That's how I have hope.
Once in awhile we have to interact with the medical universe. I'm doing that now.
Things have been going pretty good. Tired. If I am up and out of the house for over five hours, I will start getting shivers, and whole body aches. I am walking an hour a day, now going faster each day. Port site still tender, improving every day.
Hair is about an inch long now.
I have expectations that, as it has been four weeks since last radiation, my life and my body would be back to normal. Not yet. I need to manage my expectations. Just relax Sara, you have been through poisoning and burning. The left breast is still swollen and tender, not wearing under wire bra yet. I did one day last week and by the end of the day the under wire was killing me, cutting into my swollen flesh. Flickers of pain in my breast and left underarm area randomly. I am so tired I shiver if I am up and out and exercising too much. So I am out of the house six hours a day, walk one hour a day. Getting there.
Just a little sailboat setting off for who knows where....
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