LAST DAY! LAST DAY! LAST DAY! LAST DAY! LAST DAY! LAST DAY! LAST DAY!
Whatever these next few weeks bring, it's got to be a lift not to have to take a 45-mile drive to get pinned to a table and zapped five days a week.
I am now going out before dawn for a 3-mile jog on the day of my 35th radiation treatment.
(By the way, the way I've dealt with exercise and dry mouth is gum. I'm getting less radiation on the left side of my neck, too. I pop in two pieces of Biotene gum and one piece of orbit and chew vigorously while exercising. Also carry a water bottle.)
I of course can't know at this point if the treatments worked, but I have to assume that they did until I get a scan. Anything else would be paralyzing. So screw cancer. No matter what, it hasn't been able to completely put me on my knees.