We were given an incredible gift: a weekend in a cottage at ocean’s edge.  A bottle of French Champagne waited for us in the fridge with a note of  ‘Happy Anniversary’.  A was able to be with friends and drive herself to and from work, E stayed with a friend near by, B and I left enough food for the katz and fish and headed east on Friday.  In no time at all, we drove over a one lane wooden bridge and found an incredible retreat. We are humbled by the generosity of R and G who shared this incredible place with us.  Thank you both so much.

The conversation was unencumbered by chores, work, life stressors.  It was a wonderful way to reacquaint after 2o years of marriage, if you know what I mean.  I was with my life companion and it was just us with zero responsibilities.  We didn’t even plan our schedule.  We just threw what we had in the cooler and went.  We talked and laughed, napped and watched wildlife.  We read and napped, laughed and walked.  The ocean air was the elixir we both needed to exhale fully and fully enjoy each other.

As we sat on the deck overlooking the Atlantic,  I realized I had 2 minutes of radiation remaining.  Now that they are doing only the booster, it’s a 30 second ray, I’m in and out in no time.  Today was treatment #30, believe it or not. 

Updates on my skin:  at this point the skin under my arm by my upper ribs is extremely burned and a dark layer of dead skin has formed.  (Attractive, I know.)  Some of it has peeled off.  It looks painful with the tender pink underbelly exposed.  It feels painful when I move, so at night I have a small pillow wedged in there, which really helps.  (The pillow made by a sweet friend of A’s.  She made it out of a tie dyed shirt she had made with us many moons ago!) All of the treated area feels rough and at the same time it is tender, it lacks sensitivity.  There’s really nothing to make it comfortable.  It feels very tight.   I have to wear a layer under my work shirt to absorb the Silvadene.  Normally this is not a problem at all, but something happened yesterday and it suddenly has turned unseasonably humid here. 

I was trying to describe a hot flash to B on the way to the cottage.  I was having one and there was apparently an observable urgency to my stripping down to balance the flash.  I said something about not having the word to describe what it felt like and B said “like you’re going to burst into flames?” and it struck my funny bone.  It really did feel like I was going to combust, right there on Route 27 south.

Life seems actually pretty normal right now.  Sure I’m a little sleepy at times.  Schedules are relatively routine.  I’m really looking forward to fewer appointments.