Rain. Feh.

Oh, you know... just kvetching. My radiation was cancelled two days in a row this week -- a malfunctioning machine, and I suppose that's a good reason to cancel. This means that my treatment is further delayed. This should be my last week. As it stands now, if all goes smoothly going forward, I won't be done with rads until the end of NEXT week.

When they set up your schedule it's impressed upon you how it's all a very scientific protocol -- how you must not miss a session. It's all perfectly orchestrated to kick cancer's ass. But in reality, when the machine's down, or there's a three-day weekend, cancer can wait.

In the interim I feel as though I am without treatment. Well -- I am without effective treatment. So cancer rages and roars in my blood and bones and lymphs and lungs. Cancer's doing a systemic limbo dance, and security's walked away from the entrances... and Sean and I aren't even going to show up with fake badges to pretend like we're in charge.

And so today, booked for an alternative machine, I need to show up early (middle of my work day), and wait while aaaaaalll those sick people in front of my have their turn. And then I have to go back to work. And then I'm staying late for a union meeting. And then I'll come home.

I guess it doesn't sound so bad. Just tired. Not loving the rain. Not loving this experience. Not feeling those women who say that cancer is the best thing that ever happened to them. Still loving Eric. Still glad the pain is much, much, more manageable. Still glad for the distraction of a (relatively) easy job (for now... things are backing up).

I told one of my co-workers -- a nurse with whom I have limited work contact, although she'd like to dominate my time -- that I have cancer yesterday. Without skipping a beat she let me know that they had already had several secretaries die from cancer there, and they were very good about it.

Good morning, America!