This morning I was sitting in the truck next to hubby on the way to his first IMRT radiation treatment. He will receive a total of 28 of these treatments. We will go 5 days a week for 5 1/2 weeks.
It was quiet in the truck. 'Riders on the Storm' was playing on the stereo. He smiled at me. I smiled back, but inside my heart was racing and my mind was screaming in a full blown tantrum.
I do not want to go to radiation!
I do not want to go to the radiation oncologist!
I do not want my husband to need a fucking radiation oncologist!
I do not want my husband to have fucking cancer!
I don't want it!
It was all I could do to not burst into tears and run screaming from the car into traffic.
He smiled at me again and squeezed my hand as we pulled into the parking lot. "Time to microwave the huevos" he joked. I laughed and kissed his neck.
My heart pounded in my ears. My throat was so tight I could not swallow. My mind continued to scream. I almost could not hear the receptionist say good morning.
I have to get out of here.
I can not do this.
I am not strong enough for this.
Please, make all of this fucking go away.
I smiled at the technician as she came to get my husband, "I like my men medium rare. Please do not over cook him." I told her. She laughed. He laughed. She giggled as he smiled at her (they all do).
NO! NO! NO! You can not have him.
I can't breathe.
I think I have stopped breathing.
Someone, please fucking help me. I am drowning.
Smile Stacey, he does not need you freaking the fuck out, you selfish bitch.
I smiled and the door closed. 20 minutes later he came out. "That was easy. One down, twenty-seven to go."
One down. Twenty-seven to go.
10 hours ago