The Cancer that Saved Christmas

Last week I had my last radiation treatment. Because of some goofy things they are doing with my husbands insurance at work, we had to cram the last two weeks treatments into one week, but it all worked out. I just feel awful that someone had to come in to work just for me over the Thanksgiving break. But how nice was that!? I'm sure my puny little $10 Cinemark gift card made it all worth his while. ha!

So now the radiation will keep burning inside and outside of me for about two weeks and then my skin should start returning to normal. Normal. I like the sound of that.
Oddly enough, I will really miss my radiation staff. It was actually sort of nice to start off every day with our little visits. And donuts every Friday didn't hurt either.

So far, having cancer hasn't given me the big life changing epiphanies that I thought it would. Cancer's lessons have been small.. but sweet nonetheless. One of them I realized rather recently. Up until this year, my opinion of Christmas and all that goes with it had become rather...worn out. I'll spare you all the reasons, but let's just say; Christmas had become another chore for me to do. But when we put the tree up last week, I rather enjoyed it. And shopping hasn't been the burden I remember. I even bought a book full of snowflake patterns and we totally littered the kitchen yesterday with specks and slivers of tiny paper shrapnel making one beautiful paper snowflake after another.

So, ho-ho-ho and God bless us everyone. Ding-dong the Grinch is dead. "Wha-hoo dooray" which in Whoville means: little hair, big heart, bring on the egg nog.