I’m not having fun. I found out yesterday that I need to show up tomorrow for my pelvic radiation tattooing. I am not looking forward to this. When the doctor briefly described the process he mentioned, “As we scan you we will have something metal up your vagina and a rubber plug up your rectum.” I understand – logically and intellectually – why they are doing this. But my little girl, no, she doesn’t understand. And she doesn’t understand why she has to be alone in the cold room all by herself.
You see, a long time ago by earth rotation counts, I was raped. But some days in my head it might have happened just yesterday. And “something metal” and a “rubber plug” really don’t have a place in every day conversation. Can we just say I am having a difficult time processing this?
So what am I doing to care for myself? I went to see my Primary Care Physician. I needed to see a doctor who knew me and who I knew cared about me. She could see right away that I am stressed and more depressed than usual. She will get on the case of why my port has not been removed yet. She increased my meds (since my psychiatrist up and left without saying a word) until I get settled with a new one.
And where is my Higher Power in all this? I was once told by a therapist, “The cord between us can become tattered and frayed, but it will never break” and it is now how I think of my relationship with my Higher Power. What it means to me is that there is an inner, strong connection that will never be severed – no matter what I do or what I think God has done. I can yell at him and rant and rave, and no matter what, I will still turn my will and my life over to him each day to the best of my ability. Some days I forget to trust. Some days I still think I have it all under control. Some days I really don’t think he has a clue.
Well meaning friends say, “Radiation is a breeze compared to chemo.” To me I see chemo as light and social and non-invasive, just a needle in a vein and some short-term side-effects. Radiation I see as dark and cold and lonely with long term lingering side-effects and objects stuck in and pointed at my nether regions.
How do I talk to my little girl and tell her tomorrow will be okay when I am scared myself? How do I let her know I will be there to protect her when I feel so terrorized? I can imagine angel’s wings covering me. I imagine myself in God’s hands.
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