Time sure flies when you're having fun — and when you're going through radiation therapy, which is not at all fun, but also not all that bad. Aside from the gobs of time that go POOF! when you have to drive a half hour (more like 45 minutes at rush hour) or carve out an hour to take a bus that may or may not arrive on time to go to an appointment that usually takes less than 20 minutes — then turn around, go home and get started on your day. Bye-bye, two-plus hours times five days a week = OMG, how am I supposed to stay on top of work and exercise and be a cheerful and present parent and chillax every now and then? Yeah, I've been getting wound up pretty good over all the time I've been "losing" going to and from and to and from and to and from radiation. It's surely one of the reasons I've struggled with insomnia in recent weeks. Speaking of insomnia, things have gotten a little better since I shared my woe-is-me radiation haiku. What a difference a few consecutive days of subpar-but-not-awful sleep can make! The fog starts lifting. Mole hills don't loom like the Mount Everests they aren't. The world seems full (or at least not devoid) of hope and possibility. Then you count the days, and all of a sudden you're halfway to the finish line. What? That was quick! Yep, I crossed the halfway point today: 15 treatments down, 15 to go. My skin's holding up well. I have the beginnings of a mild whompy-jawed rhombus-shaped "radiation burn" on my left chest and under my arm. I've been bullish about lubing up with moisturizer and some anti-inflammatory steroid cream. I was warned that my skin might blister up and break (ewww), so it's comforting to make it this far with minimal damage to my skin. The breath-holding thing hasn't been difficult, either. I only have to do it six times per treatment: two for practice and once for each dose of radiation. Each time, I think about my heart and how each deep breath I take in is protecting it from radiation it doesn't need. A little plastic box my radiation techs tape onto the top of my belly tells them if I'm breathing in enough, too much, or too little. I've gotten it just right just about every single time. Once during today's treatment, they asked me to let out a little air partway through one of my radiation doses. The precision of radiation treatment floors me sometimes. After about 20 seconds, I get the all clear to breathe again and sometimes think back to that hilarious "f*ck that" meditation that went viral not long after I was diagnosed. I feel a surge of calm strength as I "let the horse shit of the external world fade from my awareness.” Ahhhh ... ha ha ha ha ha ha! :-) I should play it for my radiation techs one of these days. They'd appreciate it. They're awesome like that. When each treatment is over, we say our "See you tomorrows" and I walk away feeling grateful to be one step closer to finishing this process.