The Frozen Vegetable Parade
🌼 Date: Monday, April 27, 2026
⚡ Energy: Fried, itchy, and mildly nauseous
❤️🩹 Status: Managing the side effects one frozen vegetable at a time
😣 Outlook: Hoping tomorrow my skin decides to behave
Today has been one of those days where my body decided to remind me that radiation treatment is not a spa package.
I’ve been nauseous, tired, and itching so badly that at one point I was convinced I had popped the little blister-like pustules in my armpit. If you’ve never wondered what it feels like to want to scratch your skin off while simultaneously trying not to touch it at all… congratulations, you’re living a blessed life.
Enter the Frozen Vegetable Parade.
The nurses told me if the itching or burning gets bad, to use a frozen bag of peas or corn because it molds better to the body than an ice pack. And let me tell you, whoever discovered that trick deserves some kind of medical award.
So now the freezer has become part pharmacy, part produce aisle.
Frozen peas: deployed.
Frozen corn: standing by.
Both taking turns doing their tour of duty.
At this point I’m pretty sure if someone opened our freezer they would think we were preparing for the world’s strangest dinner. Instead of cooking the vegetables, I’m rotating them around my body like some kind of icy pit crew.
Peas on the armpit.
Corn on the boob.
Back to peas again.
The glamorous life of cancer treatment continues.
Casey walked by earlier while I was holding a bag of frozen peas under my arm and just shook his head like this is completely normal behavior now. Which, in our house, I guess it kind of is.
The good news is that the cold does help calm the itching down a bit. The bad news is that once the peas thaw out, it’s time to swap them out for the corn and start the whole process over again.
So if anyone was wondering what the cutting-edge treatment plan looks like at this stage of radiation, apparently it involves a steady supply of frozen vegetables and a whole lot of patience.
At this point I’m just grateful none of the neighbors can see through the windows, because trying to explain why I’m icing myself with produce would probably require a conversation I’m not prepared to have.
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