Radioactive Garbage Time

"...There is room in the halls of pleasure

For a large and lordly train,

But one by one we must all file on

Through the narrow aisles of pain."

a portion of Ella Wheeler Wilcox's poem, Solitude

I currently have my next Azedra (nuclear medicine) treatment scheduled for February 7th at the University of Pennsylvania hospital.

I can't say I'm looking forward to it. The treatment itself is nothing troubling - my body will feel a bit off for a few days but the psychological impact of the required isolation afterwards is profound. As I've said before, hugs play a big part in me calculating my self-worth and being happy. As an introvert I don't miss crowds of people and it doesn't take much to fulfill my socialization requirements, but when I don't fulfill those requirements I feel terribly lonely. There's also the feeling of being a radioactive leper, with nurses donning little hazmat suits and ducking between lead panels to talk to me for a few moments. This experience has given me a lot of empathy for society's outcasts. The feeling of people not wanting to see you, stumbling away in fear of you is impossible to forget.

Once I am finally able to sit next to my wife on the couch again, the next treatment may be radiation targeting my arms and shoulders to improve my daily pain. After that there's been early discussion of a chemo treatment that has worked well with those in my condition, but I don't know when that would start. My focus now is on trying to mentally prepare myself for the Azedra isolation and then hopefully some radiation to clear up my pain. I would be eternally grateful for a few relatively pain-free months. After that? Who knows. I've learned not to think too far out these days.