The other day I took my dog out into the back yard and was startled by a loud rattling fluttering sound - the sound of struggle. I looked around and near my feet was the most gorgeous, huge, blue and black dragonfly - with a wasp on it's back. I know I shouldn't have interfered, but the sound was too much to bear, so I bent down and flicked the wasp with my finger. It took off and left the injured dragonfly behind. I picked it up, still alive, but saw that it had a hole in it's back where the wasp had begun to feed. I could see the dragonfly breathing, the movement within it's body. I took it and left it under my bed of basil, where it remained, and slowly faded. With it's life, went it's color.
Why couldn't I just let nature take it's course? The sound of that struggle for life rang through me, and I could not keep myself from intervening, though all I did was prolong the suffering of the dragonfly...
This past week has been a long and challenging one, preparing for the beginning of my radiation treatment. On Monday I went in for the 'simulation' process, where the mapping of my body and aligning the course of radiation occurs. It took a few hours of pushing, stretching, strapping and molding my body on a rock hard table in an ice box of a room, stripped to the waist with beams of light being shot across me, velcro straps squeezing me and cat scans zapping me, while I was told to keep still. The final step were 7 tiny tattoo dots for quick lining up for the radiation treatment. They look a lot like black heads - lovely! Friday I returned for a 'dry run' and I got to experience what the process will be like, though only x-rays were taken, no radiation given. None of this was a bit of fun. It is in these types of situations that dissociative skills come in handy! Separating mind and body is sometimes the only way to get through painful and unpleasant experiences, in my opinion.
Thankfully, the long drawn out stuff is over with. Monday I begin the daily sessions, for the next 6½ weeks. For some reason I'm feeling less prepared for this leg of the journey than I was for the chemo. Probably because I'm at an 'enough is enough' place and just want to be done with it all. I'm really tired.So for now I will say good night, and thank you all for your supportive, caring messages and continued visits during my intermittent presence. Much love, Karin