On a good note…I am done with physical therapy or torture as I like to call it. I have been done for about two weeks. Have not missed the torture but I have missed hearing the stories of my therapists’ kids peanut and the twins.
I must remember that several people are reading this blog and when I went to one of my physical therapy appointments. They commented on how on was being tortured by them. I was a little shocked at first because I couldn’t figure out how they knew…then they told that one of the employees who work at the therapist place is a reader of my blog (also one of Campbell’s friend’s mommy’s). I laughed really hard….and realized I had been caught.
Four weeks down only 2 weeks left of radiation. I am starting to see some major skin changes. The chest and underarm area are reddening and my shirts are starting to get uncomfortable. I just keep slathering on the cream…
I have noticed lately in the paper that there have been several young women die of breast cancer lately. So I decided to get on caring bridge and find one of them. I sat and read her caring bridge journal for two hours one day. Of course, the ending is not what I hope for...for me but it was good for me to read her story and what she went through. I felt a peace with my journey and feel fortunate that I have not experienced much pain and suffering along my treatment. In her journal, she constantly wrote this bible verse Hebrews 11:1 “Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.”
Little Chase is now two. The poor kid is registering in the 25% percentile in height and weight. Hopefully the kid will have a huge growth spurt someday and be as tall as his daddy. We celebrated with cake (made by step-sister) and ice cream. He got all good stuff including his first pair of cowboy boots. He has not taken those things off. He even put them on with his footed p.j’s the other day. It was so cute.
A funny story about Chase and the fake one…I picked him and Campbell up from the sitter’s. He hugged me and then looked at me funny. Then, he started to poke me in the fake one. Before I could say anything he grabbed my shirt and tried to look down it. I told him it was o.k. but he kept poking at my fake one. I don’t normally wear my fake one after radiation therapy and for some reason that day I decided to put it back in. Chase must have thought it was too hard and didn’t like it when he hugged me.