The light at the end of the tunnel. Hopefully it's not a train bearing down on us.

Well, assuming there are no car accidents or sewer line breakages or road rage incidents or nuclear power plant episodes to keep Blaine from getting to radiation tomorrow .... assuming none of that happens, then tomorrow he will complete his final (of 32) radiation treatments. Final, hopefully, as in his whole life, never again, knock wood wish on a shooting star pull the wishbone pluck a four leaf clover throw salt over your shoulder carry a lucky rabbits foot whatever the hell you want to do.

Several people have mentioned, that *I* haven't mentioned him enough during this treatment time of his. Ummmm ..... well .... I'm not quite sure what to say about that. I guess I'm just not sure *what* to say: Hey, my husband's having radiation --- AGAIN -- for his third go-round with sinus cancer, two thumbs up!! And then we only have to wait three months for the next scan to see if it worked -- woo freaking hoo! (no, no sarcasm here, why do you ask?)

In a glass half empty scenario, this last week or so has definitely been tough. The pain has caught up to him and he spends a large amount of time sitting in his recliner, covered with a blanket, eyes closed, holding a heating pad to the side of his face. Then, his pain meds kick in, the glass becomes half full, and he's actually able to interact with his kids for a brief while. And in a glass half-even-fuller scenario, the pain is much less than it was the last time he had radiation, which is certainly something to feel glad about. Also Milk Duds. I unabashedly feel glad for Milk Duds.

Here's a funny story: When preparing to receive each radiation treatment, he gets on the table and lies on his back. They place his mask over his head and face and then bolt it to the table so he absolutely cannot move during the treatment. The mask is sort of like a fencing mask, made to fit his head perfectly, only with small holes in it. Think "Hannibal Lecter", but made out of mesh, and it covers his entire head, face, and part of his shoulders. Apparently the other day he was a little past due for a haircut and the top of his hair was sticking out the holes in the mesh, so the nurses took turns rubbing his head like a chia pet for good luck while he was bolted to the table.

OK, maybe not so funny. But when you're 28 sessions into radiation treatment, I guess you take luck and humor wherever you think you can find it.

So, anyway, good to know it's almost done. Good for me because I'm about tired of being all solicitous and kind (Seriously! Being nice to a sick guy for this long is exhausting! And I swear if I have to watch one more episode of the Military Channel I will slit my wrists.) and I know it's good for him too because he's definitely feeling Just. About. Done. With. The. Whole. Thing.

Oh and hey, here's another piece of good news: We received notice today that the pharmacy we've been using for the last year, the one that has every prescription for every member of our family, including all of Blaine's -- which is no mean feat, is no longer accepting our insurance ---- TOTAL AWESOMENESS!!!