April 2, 2009 A Great Day

I am sitting on the back patio of a Sun City West home listening to a symphony of birds - quail, humming birds, doves, starlings - filling the branches of lush trees. The fragrance of orange trees fills the air. This is a senior community. I've never believed in the concept of the separation of age groups in such a permanent way. The idea of no children in the community depresses me. The seniors, I believe, need young people and the young people need seniors. The thought that the sound-of-the-city is ambulance sirens and oxygen-delivery trucks seems too horrible to contemplate. I would not however, I admit to myself, miss the boom boom of rap blaring from young people's cars, keeping beat to their raging hormones.
I'm surprised to hear a rowdy gathering a few patios away in this fenceless community. These older boys are laughing up a storm and they are actually listening to band music! I've never known anyone who listened to band music. I recognize the John Philip Souza piece I played for my son's first grade class. I was a volunteer art docent and even wore a borrowed band uniform to help illustrate the American parade painting I'd brought to share and inspire the boys and girls. We marched around the room with imaginary batons and instruments. Perhaps these are old friends sharing memories of high school band-playing days. I wonder if they're marching around their patio. The foliage is thick enough to conceal them.
The weather is glorious! It's not yet warm enough to drive everyone in to their air conditioned houses. A friend has given us the use of this beautiful home while I finish up the last half of my radiation. It is wonderful to have a place to rest, occasionally sparing us the daily 220 mile round trip drive. It is the first time since last summer I've felt this relaxed. Is there anything more wonderful than spending a day outdoors in perfect weather? There is even a gentle breeze stirring the trees.
This morning we drove for an hour trying to find a place for breakfast, shunning the long line at IHop. We finally found a golf course restaurant with a big "Breakfast served all day" banner stating "open to the public". Knowing golf course restaurants serve good fare at cheap prices, my husband pulled in at the insistence of our growling stomachs. We dined on yummy biscuits and gravy and bad coffee, and were grateful for both. There was a time when I would have insisted we drive farther and try to find the perfect little cafe but I've mellowed. It's a lot less stressful to go with the flow. Watching golfers come and go, we found ourselves dreaming of the day we'll be able to step back onto a golf course together. But either I wait for my new breasts or learn an new swing to fit my temporary body. My prosthetics breasts aren't exactly stationary. Besides, the muscle connecting my right chest to my arm isn't up to the contortions a back swing requires. We don't mention the added constraints our budget imposes. It's nice to dream. Last night's treatment was hard. There was a new tech and she wasn't able to position me as she needed to. My right arm fits in a two piece arm rest over my head. It was angled in a way that caused extreme discomfort and seemed to me to be different than usual. Now, I think to myself, I understand the torture of being drawn and quartered. My fifteen minute treatment went forty-five minutes and still failed to get the two xrays they wanted. She is sweet but I was frustrated and let my claustrophobia get to me when she abandoned me in the closed room way longer than I'm used to.
"Hello!" I call. "Anyone there?" "Helloooo! Allison!!!!" I sit up and discover I am four feet off the ground. I'd never realized the table I lay on lifted so high. This explains the smaller technicians straining to replace the tailored "lens" equipment and peering over the table to verify my tattoo points. By now, I am acutely aware of the other moves of this massive Varian Linear Accelerator specific to my treatment. I'm familiar with the beeping and whirring and buzzing sounds and red and green lights. How could I be unaware of my elevated state? I lay back and picture my sheet draped bed lifted by the telepathic thoughts of a magician. Chemo fog hasn't fully lifted, I conclude.
Turns out the technician was off getting advice on my case from the on-call doctor mysteriously squirreled away somewhere in this building. When she re enters she tells me we will give up trying for xrays tonight and hope my muscle relaxes for the next session. Apparently, it's not uncommon for muscles to tighten up from the radiation. She gave me some stretching exercises and I give some serious thought to skipping the next treatment.
I've decided what I am overhearing is a boisterous card party - a friendly game, I decide, with a wife supplying snacks and encouragement. I'm a hopeless eaves dropper. The sun lulls me to slumber. When, I wonder, is the last time I spent an entire afternoon outdoors in such a peaceful setting? What a great day! God is on His throne and all is right with the world.