So, while I’m still in a good mood about radiation, let’s come up with all the hokey jokes about the topic and get them behind us. For instance, when you see me there’s no need to say, “My, you’re glowing!” or “You look radiant!” Don’t ask if it’s an illuminating experience or whether I feel like a piece of toast in the microwave.

I’ve already heard the admonition “Quick. Close the door. You’re letting out all the radiation.” Believe me, the staff is very good at closing Liam’s door. And if you don’t know who Liam is, you didn’t read yesterday’s blog.

And, free of charge, here are two radiation oncology jokes. But you have to know something about physics to really appreciate them. A neutron walks into a bar and asks the bartender, “How much for a beer?” The bartender looks at him and says, “For you, no charge.”

Two atoms sit in a field of ionizing radiation. One atom says, “I think I lost an electron.” The other says,” Are you sure?” And the first atom says, “I’m positive!” I do not claim credit for these last two items; they came from a website called SDN, whose mission is to help students become doctors.

Class dismissed.

Today is my last day before radiation begins; it seems almost surreal. Nine weeks ago, I was having surgery; five weeks ago, I said farewell to Duane the drain; and two weeks ago, I got a respiratory infection. It’s been a busy way to prepare for radiation, and I wish I were feeling more rested.

Still, I decided to see “Paddington 2” as a mean of escaping all this angst. And it certainly did the trick. For two hours, I was immersed in Paddington’s problems over my own. Wondered if he’d ever get out of prison; if his family would be there for him; and if the villain – Hugh Grant at his dramatic best – would be caught. It’s three “Yeses,” in case you want to know.

There’s something about animated film that appeals to me. And to a couple friends.  We’ve sat through the original “Paddington,” “The Minions,” “SpongeBob SquarePants,” “Zootopia,” and countless other “cartoons,” only to leave the theater completely relaxed.

The trailers to the feature promised more this summer. I hope to have my respiratory problems, radiation, and anything else life throws my way well in hand by then. Maybe there’ll be news of a “Paddington 3” too.

We were supposed to have company for the weekend, but in the end the visit was postponed. Honestly, as much as I wanted to see one of my dearest friends and her husband, it was the right decision.

Instead, I’ve spent time getting ready for radiation. Stocked up on Ivory® soap, which is recommended for use over my fancy monogrammed soap. Didn’t stock up on deodorant, since its use is not recommended at all.

Set my alarm clock for 7 AM. This is a first. I don’t believe I’ve set this clock since I got it. But part of doing well with radiation is to have a regular routine and follow it. Which has made me make a general plan for each day.

Up at 7 AM; bathe and dress; do things that make me happy – piano, reading, exercising, writing. After lunch, a power nap before I head to the hospital for my radiation appointment. Then home for a healthy dinner and whatever “leftovers” I didn’t get to during the day.

I also made some crock pot meals today: potato soup, chicken and rice casserole, Salisbury steak. Am sending them straight to my freezer to be ready when the notorious fatigue sets in. Practiced my power napping too. Actually this was the most fun of all.

There are things you take for granted until you can’t do them. Then you realize how important reclaiming that ability is. In cases of stroke, for instance, I imagine that often the patient never regains full recovery. At least not without a ton of work.

My situation really called for only half a ton, but it was still daunting. Reaching something on the top shelf with my right arm was impossible a few weeks ago. So was hooking my bra from the back. Or simulating the arm movements for the various swimming strokes I once took pride in doing.

But today’s physical therapy session with Amanda showed how far I’ve come.  I can do all three of the things mentioned above. Not to the same degree that my left arm can do. But I’m getting there. Arm-anda, as I’ve nicknamed my right arm, is coming along swimmingly. (Pun intended.)

It may not really fall under the category of “new tricks,” but I am organizing my life for the next weeks as self-centered as possible without completely ignoring family and friends. I plan to do activities that help keep my morale up and my stress level down. I’m going to have facials, still see Amanda, respond to as many friends’ emails each day that I can, and arrive at the local hospital every day at 3:30 PM for the daily zap.

To do this, I’ve talked with a personal chef, have hired someone to help with the copious tax paperwork Earl and I generate, and am indebted to two friends who are helping with my Spectacled Bear project. The only thing left is to find someone who’ll iron for me, but that’s probably asking too much.

I haven’t given a number to a day in a long time, but today was a 9.

Last night I lay in bed, coaxing sleep to come. It didn’t accept the invitation.  So I began thinking about all the things I’ve been able to do that I couldn’t do four weeks ago. For instance, Duane the drain and I were inseparable, not by choice but by circumstance. But exactly one day after the four weeks, Duane was booted from the scene with no regrets on my part.

Since then, like a puppy, I’ve learned to roll over and sleep on all sides of my body.  This doesn’t sound like much, but after sleeping in one position for over a month (due to Duane), it’s a great joy. I have attained almost full mobility of the affected arm, which was essential for starting radiation.

I feel almost perky at times, although it doesn’t last. Still, this is more like my previous self, and friends make comments like, “You seem more you.” Yes, I do.

It’s a great respite before starting radiation, since I’m not sure who I shall feel like down the road. I only hope sleep will come comfort me then since it didn’t come last night.