The Modesty Ship Has Sailed
🌼 Date: Friday, April 24, 2026
⚡ Energy: Crispy and getting crispier
❤️🩹 Status: Radiation reactions expanding their territory
😑 Outlook: Lotion, Aquaphor, and a whole lot of deep breathing
Radiation Treatment: Day 12 – Reaction Continues
This morning as I was applying my first coat of lotion for the day, I noticed that I had a new bump to add to my radiation-reaction armpit collection.
Like the good girl that I am, I applied my lotion and then the Aquaphor, and asked Casey to do the same for me on my back. It’s beginning to hurt so badly that I have to hold my breath and grab the edge of the bathroom counter while he applies it.
He keeps apologizing and I feel so bad for him, so I try to act like it doesn’t hurt.
But I’m not sure how long I can keep that performance up.
When it came time to do my left boob, though…
Oh lordie.
The pain literally took my breath away.
Everywhere I touched to apply lotion left white fingerprints on my skin.
The strange thing is that most of my boob is still numb, but let me tell you — I could feel every bit of this.
I’m pretty sure my boob spent the night having a sleepover on the surface of the sun.
Throughout the day I also noticed that the left side of my neck is extremely hot and tender to the touch. I can’t even rest my head on my hand without it hurting.
And today I wore a hoodie.
Even through the hoodie, I could still feel the heat radiating from my boob.
The fun part?
I still have four treatments left, and they say radiation reactions will continue to grow for at least a couple of weeks after treatment ends.
Well that’s something to look forward to.
During setup for my appointment today, they added a new nurse to the mix.
On a normal day, I lie on the table totally exposed while they get me aligned just right. They use my little radiation tattoos to get the measurements correct, they measure the height of the table plus the height of my chest while I’m holding my breath, and they use all of that to determine exactly how far the table needs to be from the machine that shoots the radiation beam.
Once they’re satisfied with all the measurements, they cover my chest with a folded piece of what looks like a bedsheet for modesty.
The funny part about that?
They cover me up right before they close the giant lead door and leave the room.
So, while the whole team is standing in the room, I’m lying there fully exposed for anyone to see.
But once they leave, suddenly modesty becomes important.
Yesterday we had a new nurse, and she forgot to give me the modesty cover.
At this point in my life, though, is there really any modesty left?
I’ve had kids, which pretty much strips all modesty away immediately.
Then there are the annual exams women get to enjoy, where apparently you are never far enough down the table.
I always scoot down until I can literally feel my cheeks hanging off the end of the table, and still I hear:
“Just a little more please.”
Like seriously… should I just line up the end of the table with my lower back?
For years I thought those stirrups were some sort of medieval torture device, but eventually I realized they were actually helpful.
If you push against them with all your body weight and arch your back just right, you can prevent yourself from falling off the end of the table and landing in an embarrassing puddle at the doctor’s feet.
Anyway… back to radiation.
Today we had another new nurse, and this one placed the modesty cover before they started taking measurements.
Then she tried to pull it down or shift it slightly to get the measurement she needed.
When they measure things, they call the numbers out loud because another nurse on the other side of the lead door is entering them into the computer and comparing them to the original measurements from my first setup day.
Since I have nothing else to do while lying there like a science experiment, I’ve been paying attention to these numbers.
So when she called out 3.5 inches from the center chest tattoo to a point on my boob, I spoke up before the “voice in the sky” could.
I said,
“It’s supposed to be 4.5.”
Then I added helpfully,
“It would probably be easier to measure if you took the cover off my boobs.”
The look on that poor nurse’s face!
I felt bad for the young thing, so I told her it was okay — she could put it back on when she was finished.
The worry lines on her forehead disappeared instantly.
A few minutes later she called out another measurement.
One of the other nurses came over, lifted the bottom of the modesty cover, and said,
“It’s because she has…”
Then both of them said,
“Oh.”
And I couldn’t hear what it was that I apparently have.
Dang it.
Was he showing her my scar?
Was it the expander bag?
The underside sunburn (sorry — radiation reaction)?
Casey thinks maybe he was showing her that I don’t have a nipple anymore.
I guess I’ll never know.
And yes, that probably makes me sound a little nosy.
But this is still my body, even if lately it feels like it has been checked out of the hospital library and labeled “teaching specimen.”
It would be nice if someone occasionally looped the owner of the boobs into the conversation.
But after that he told her something interesting.
Apparently I’m one of the patients who gets an x-ray every day before treatment.
That was news to me.
I knew they took one if they made changes the day before, but no one had told me they were doing it every single day.
The first thought that popped into my head was:
Great.
An x-ray every day.
I’m going to end up with radiation poisoning.
I mean, when you go to the dentist, they put that heavy lead apron on you before taking x-rays of your teeth to avoid the risk of overexposure.
But I guess in the grand scheme of things…
They are already cooking me from the inside out with a commercial-sized microwave, so what’s one more tiny little x-ray every day going to hurt?
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One Badass Day at a Time
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