Radiation is boring and fears put to rest (for now)

Eight treatments down, 25 to go.  Radiation is boring and a grind.  After three more treatments, I'll be a third of the way through.  It's not "hard" per se, but it's not easy either.  At least I'm not having any side effects yet.  I'm getting along better with most of the staff, although one or two still call me Rachelle. But each day I get to mark off one more treatment.

I mentioned a few weeks ago that I was having pelvic pain.  I ended up seeing a gynecological oncologist (say that five times, fast or slow) and she examined me and was sure I was fine.  That said, she sent me for an ultrasound, more for my piece of mind than hers (I think).  The good news is while she wanted the ultrasound soon, she wasn't in a rush to schedule an emergency ultrasound, which I took as a good sign.  I finally had the ultrasound on Halloween.  I don't know why, but it didn't register until I got there that not only was I in the same building, but I was in the exact same room as when I had my biopsy in April.  In fact, it had been almost exactly seven months since I'd been there. 

Even though the oncologist was confident my pelvic pain was not a result of ovarian cancer, it was still stressful getting the ultrasound.  The technician's face was hard to read and of course you can never tell what anything is on those ultrasound screens.  Also, prior to April 1 of this year, I had associated ultrasounds with being pregnant with my two beautiful daughters.  Now it represented cancer.  And of course, being in the same room brought back how naive I still was to this whole thing.  I remember being a little concerned but I was too young and healthy to get cancer.

At one point, the technician was listening for something during the ultrasound.  I'm not sure what, and I didn't ask, because I wasn't sure I wanted to know the answer--was she listening for the presence or absence of something, and was I passing the test in a good way?  Whatever she was listening for, to me it sounded like the wind howling through a frozen tundra.  All I could picture was this barren place with the wind blowing snow and ice around.  A bizarre image, I know.  I was used to hearing my babies' heartbeats when they turned on the volume during an ultrasound.  So that made me a little sad, because I'm never going to hear that sound again for myself.

While I don't have the final answer, all signs point to no ovarian cancer.  I feel like I should be more relieved than I am.  I think I'm mostly too tired to feel that relieved.  Even this post feels more down and negative than it's intended.  It's intended to be reflective rather than sad or scary, but I'm not sure I'm coming across that way.

I'm starting to realize I'm going to need a serious break when this is all done.  I don't care if California won't be that warm--we might have to have our make-up vacation to California sooner rather than later.  Or maybe someplace warm and tropical!