Every morning, just before 8, I roll out of the house with my soda, my newspaper, my lymphedema sleeve, and my zip up shirt, and head out to the radiation center. I wave to the technician, change into a pink gown, and lie down on the treatment table. And then, if I’m lucky, I close my eyes and dream of Spring.
Spring, when the forsythia blooms in earnest, popping yellow flowers out where just yesterday there were none. Spring, when the sun begins to shine down on us with warmth and gentleness. Spring, when children can again play in the parks for an hour or for a morning. Spring, when babies laugh on blankets and yearn for more.
And then summer, when we will head to the beaches with our friends, playing in the surf and sand, earning our true sunburns instead of this faux sunburn that burns my right side and reminds me
that it is not yet summer, and I am still in treatment.