Ceiling Tiles and Comic Bubbles

Ceiling Tiles and Comic Bubbles

🌼 Date: Friday, April 17, 2026

⚡ Energy: Slightly stretched, slightly punchy

💞 Status: Radiation Day #? (who’s counting)

🤗 Outlook: Two glorious days off

Today when the nurse came to collect me from my Zen-like patient waiting room trance, he asked the standard question:

“How are you doing today?”

And without thinking, I replied:

“I’m happy it’s Friday because that means I don’t have to see you for the next two days.”

Cue immediate realization.

Open mouth.
Remove foot.

“Sorry,” I quickly added. “That sounded cruel. What I meant is… I don’t have to come here and do this whole thing.”

(At which point I made a vague hand-waving motion like I was holding a magic wand and casting a spell called Radiation Be Gone!)

Thankfully he laughed and said he didn’t blame me one bit for feeling that way.

Good man.

During treatment today though, my left arm felt extremely tight, and I could feel that familiar pulling sensation that tells me the cording is trying to build up again.

My physical therapist is definitely not going to be happy about that.

Which probably means there are exercises I either forgot to do…did incorrectly…or decided to procrastinate on.

But my next PT appointment isn’t until mid-May, and honestly I’m a little hesitant to call and move it up.

Because the last two times I went in for deep tissue massage, things got…interesting.

And not in a good way.

So for now we will pretend everything is fine and hope that my arm cooperates.

While I was lying on the table today, another delightful sensation popped up.

My left boob suddenly felt like it was about to split open.

Now logically I know that can’t actually happen.

Right?

…Right?

But the higher they position my left arm so they can aim the radiation at my lymph nodes, the more it seems to pull on the incision scar.

And the longer I lay there holding my breath during each beam, the more vivid my imagination becomes.

In my mind, it’s going to happen during either the third or fourth radiation blast.

Because that’s when the machine moves over to the left side of my body.

Which creates a perfectly clear trajectory.

And suddenly my brain starts narrating this entire scene like a cartoon.

The incision pops open…

POP!

Out shoots the expander bag and it launches across the room like a champagne cork.

I look up…

…and there it is.

Stuck to the ceiling tiles.

Just like when my aunt throws a spaghetti noodle at the ceiling to see if it’s done cooking.

If it sticks, the noodles are ready.

Honestly, sometimes I wish we all walked around with those little thought bubbles above our heads, like in the comics.

Because I guarantee the internal dialogue going on in people’s minds would be wildly entertaining.

Mine is already a pretty ridiculous running commentary.

And I’m sure there are people out there with even better ones.

Frankly, I think this is a missed opportunity for humanity.

💗 Tina –
One Badass Day at a Time