I.amN.otD.eadY.et children so listen up!

It’s amazing the thoughts that come to mind when your life revolves around doctor’s appointments, chemo, radiation, and trying to consume enough calories to quit losing weight. I would NOT recommend this weight loss program to anyone.
I quit writing, reading, talking, walking, weaving, sewing, and eating from weeks three through six and months beyond. Claire and Addy sat with me as we binge-watched Game of Thrones. I could see why people were in love with that series. The costumes and special effects were incredible. The rest of my time during the day was spent sleeping.
In the beginning, I planned on documenting daily my treatments and how it felt to be in treatment. I couldn’t. The second week blurred right into the third week with a daily trek to Bismarck, regardless of the weather. It was like having a job again. As winter was coming to a close, snowstorms dumped more and more snow. The winds sculpted drifts around the house upwards of six feet. It melted one day and froze the next, creating hazardous walking and driving.
I was living the movie Ground Hog’s Day. Every day was a repeat of the prior as we worked out the medications, diet, schedules, and daily chores. After week two of treatments with little or no deep sleep due to the endless coughing, I was ready to throw in the towel.
Of every side effect, the worst was the constipation. Never having experienced anything like it before in my life, it was like birthing a baby every time I tried to poop. We tried more over-the-counter remedies. If you think swallowing food is difficult. Yikes.
With less sleep from continued coughing, I wanted to give up. This torture was not worth the pain. (I have since forgotten about this pain. I guess it’s like the pain of childbirth disappearing into the joy of new love.)
My throat was beginning to feel extremely irritated from the radiation. This radiation side-effect could not be avoided. I was scared. I had to relearn how to eat. In the beginning, I craved tuna fish sandwiches. You know, the white bread, slippery tuna sandwiches from the hospital cafeteria. I skipped the bread and tried eating only tuna fish with tons of mayo. My cat loved me for it. He got the juice squeezed off the fish.
Chewing my food to a fine pulp helped, but I had to learn how to not eat like a German. It meant taking smaller bites. Even drinking water, which I was supposed to do constantly, was painful. Sipping water was more like it. And, here we were only halfway through radiation.
Halfway through.
To celebrate the third-week benchmark, I baked some cookies for the staff at the cancer center. At least I think I did. A celebration of sorts to mark the halfway point.
My pit was becoming darker until one morning I decided to change my attitude and started looking at the end of the third week as 50 percent done with treatment. I can’t remember what turned the tide.
Now, I am finding out that it might not be the end all to end all, but it gave me hope.
One of the things I remember during those first few weeks was texting Ms. Stacey and asking her if Make-A-Wish would arrange for me to be on the set of Yellowstone. I could be riding a horse with Keven Costner (I’d settle for Rip). Costner has always been one of my favorite actors. (Postman, Water World, Dances With Wolves, Bodyguard).
I would wear a wide-brimmed suede brown cowboy hat and a very colorful blue and orange Pendleton blanket wool coat like Beth Dutton. The April air would be chilly. It would be because you know farmers and ranchers are early risers. I would feel the wind on my cheeks, see the horse’s breath, hear his breathing, and feel the flowing man of my horse as we galloped across the tall dewy grass. Not a care in the world.
I would be free.
Stacey texted back a laugh and note that read, “Probably not.”