If you know me, you know that I knit. I knit very slowly, and I don’t finish very much. I have knit socks, and they are a fun project, but they take about 20 hours of solid, consistent work to finish a pair.
So if I knit you socks, you know I really, really love you. It’s like the ultimate expression of love for someone who doesn’t need one of your kidneys. Yet.
Wendy is very clever and amazing in many ways, but one area in which she has verified champion status is in sock knitting. You might not be aware, but every year there is a sock speed knitting championship, and I am lucky enough to know a few people who have competed.
This year, Wendy was in the final 10, and came in second (iirc) IN THE WORLD. She is the silver medalist in making beautiful, complicated, and fully functional socks.
And today, while I’m planning my week around starting radiation on Monday, a very sweet courier delivered a package. And I started to cry as soon as I saw what it was.
Through this whole fucking saga, I haven’t cried. There has been a tear here and there, and the odd moment of “well, this is horrible”, but I haven’t actually broken and started sobbing until today.
I don’t know if I will wear these to death or have them framed so they can be treasured forever, but they are truly precious. Thank you Wendy.
So I got the call today about my treatment schedule. First appointment will be on the 15th of October, for “orientation”, with treatment starting the following Monday, on the 19th. Initially they had indicated the 22nd, but my brain rebelled at starting mid week, so they brought it forward a few days so that I could mentally compartmentalise each week as a separate entity. I am both slightly ashamed of needing to ask, and proud of myself for asking, because little things like that can really set me off kilter, and tiny accommodations can really help me.
Final day of treatment will be November 6th.
There is some weirdness with having my radiation treatment in “Breast Cancer Awareness Month”, because DCIS both is, and is not, “cancer”.
It’s cancer because it meets the clinical definition of cancer (abnormal cell growth with the potential to invade or spread to other parts of the body), and it literally has “cancer” in the name (Ductal Carcinoma In Situ – DCIS), but it’s not “terrible bad no good scary cancer” because it’s confined in the ducts, and slow growing. If it breaks out of the ducts and becomes invasive, you get to really belong to the cancer club, but DCIS is Schrödinger‘s Cancer. It is both completely banal and boring, and also fucking horrible and scary, but also fine, just have treatment and go home, and also, for fucks sake where do you think you’re going to put that giant fucking needle?