#172: The End of the Beginning

I can see the mouth of the tunnel from here. We went to the doc to day to check on the PEG tube. It's been a rough week since it was placed. I developed an infection around the site where it pops out of my belly. We wound up on the ER on Saturday morning of Memorial day weekend. They gave me some antibiotics and sent me home. Today the surgeon gave me a clean bill. The infection has cleared up, the tube looks good, and we are all clear to start chemo and radiation on Monday. At last.

It's funny. I'm looking forward to starting what promises to be the worst part of my treatment. I'm not sure though. The waiting has been pretty bad. Anticipating something awful can be worst than the thing itself. Like waiting in the office to see the elementary school principal.

There were horror stories about Miss Grove and the instruments of torture she kept in her small chamber. The most dreaded was the "Electric Paddle." It was said that only the worst of the worst miscreants of our school had ever even seen, let alone felt it. I'm not sure I ever even heard anyone explain what it was. Only that it was the most cruel, painful punishment imaginable. I made a trip or two into that office. I was whacked with a ruler once or twice, and I have a vague recollection of a confiscated paddle-ball paddle, but I never did see the evil machine hidden in her closet.

That's what this feels like, this waiting for treatment to start. All the preliminaries are complete. Tumor cut out. Teeth gone. Tube installed. They have prepared me for the worst, and my imagination has filled in the rest. I have no idea what awaits me in those dark little rooms full of needles and isotopes and whirring machines. I only know that I am exhausted with dreading them. I'm ready to go.

The beginning of my Cancer treatment is over. Time to turn toward the tunnel.