The room is cool and dark. There is a table, much like a petscan with a huge circular drum which goes completely around the table. One ceiling tile is replaced with a lovely garden scene. No one is in the room with you, but they can see and hear you through the cameras.
I will never forget the first day. I was shaking.While lying there I fought back the tears. I was scared of the unknown. Scared that this would hurt even though I was told it wouldn't. Scared of being all alone in that big room. I remember thinking "What if something goes wrong?". "Will anyone hear me if I yell?" I was like a small child just wanting my mom to come hold my hand. But know one can be with you in the room.
While lying on the table is getting easier, each day is getting harder on me physically. I am finding myself not wanting to do anything but sit on the couch. It reminds me of the "hard chemo" days when I would sit on the couch being a "couch potato".
The joy I can find is that these days of exhaustion will not last forever. I will regain my strength. I long for the day where I can enjoy a walk with my girls to see Rosie, my parent's horse. Or the day when I will feel up to taking walks around the property exploring. Or the day when I will have energy to jump on the trampoline. I will look back on these days as stepping stones that made me that much stronger.
