Three Down, Nineteen to Go

About to head out for my fourth radiation treatment. So far, so good, though everyone warns me to expect sudden unusual fatigue. They say it can be thwarted or diminished with exercise, nutrition and rest and so I am dedicated to those pursuits. In fact, I have dedicated this month to wellness and peace. That means doing what makes me feel good. Indulgent, yes, but if ever there was a time to be indulgent this may be it. 

I do my treatments at Georgetown University Hospital, where they make the experience as least troubling as possible--an upbeat environment, smiling faces, a can-do attitude. I find that to be the mode of the entire hospital, so far, which matters as a Georgetowner. It's my neighborhood hospital. My doctor has the wonderful and lyrical name of Chika Madu. I don't see her every day, only once a week. Those on her staff constantly check me out. My actual time getting zapped is fewer than 30 seconds. I walk over and back, which takes more time than my time at the hospital. I get to enjoy Georgetown, as the village wakes up and heads off to work, but especially like the quiet streets, the blossoming flowers, plants, trees.

My fellow patients, we nod at each other. It's a club, I guess, one none of us wanted to join. What humbles me is the patient before me, a little girl who has to be anesthetized for her treatments (because you can't move at all on the table). I feel for her and her parents, but I believe that what's being done for her will make her well. Why else would any of us go through this?