Desultory Diary Number 43: The Supernova of Betelgeuse (Cancer Journal, Continued)

 I made it! I actually made it to the top step! It took me a bit more effort than usual; my heart was beating faster, and I was a little bit--just a wee bit--out of breath. I had just come back from my daily radiation treatment for prostate cancer. Sure I am a lot more tired now than before, but I'm a lot more happy about little things--like making it to the top of the stairs.

Oops! The shopping bag, which contained the stuff I brought back from the hospital, such as my slippers and my Covid mask, broke just as I reached the next to the last step. I climbed to the landing and leaned down to pick up the bag and it broke again. And again. Was I too weak to lift it? I noticed that I fell into the wall, as I tried to retrieve the bag again. My ability to balance had deteriorated, no doubt about that--but I wasn't going to let that get me down. I stepped down to the next to the last step, and, facing the top of the stairs, I made one more valiant attempt to pick up the shopping bag.

WHOOSH!!

My poor balance did get me down--fast. I soon found myself at the bottom of the stairs, unable to move. I had fallen down the entire flight of stairs--backwards.

About halfway down, the left side of my head and body slammed into the banister posts. (More to say about this later). Thereafter, my body twisted and I soon found myself face down on the floor with my legs located a few steps above. My legs were crossed. I just lay there for a while trying in vain to untwist my legs. 

Nirmala was in the back yard reading. I know she couldn't hear me, but I cried out to her anyway. We had workers in our house at the time--we had a flood on my first day of treatment, but that's another story. They heard me and came to my aid. They brought a chair and sat me on it. I remember saying clearly, "Gracias por levantarme." Otherwise, I was quite confused. They got Nirmala, who made sure there was no major injury.

I was damn lucky. I could have broken my neck. I had fallen as passively as a puppet; perhaps this passivity is what saved me.

When I struck my head against the posts with considerable force, I saw 'stars,' or at least one huge stellar explosion. Though it lasted only a few seconds, the exploding star was very luminous indeed. I undoubtedly suffered a mild concussion.

At this time of confusion, luminous insights didn't flash up like RKO searchlights examining the sky over Los Angeles. I remember, however, saying to myself over and over, "My own inner Betelgeuse just went supernova inside my head!" Just what did I mean by that?

Betelgeuse, as you may know, is a giant red star in the constellation of Orion; the reddish star is one of the brightest of all. Stars, like our Sun, usually convert hydrogen into helium, like our Sun has been doing over 4 billion years and will continue to do so for over 4 billion more. But giant stars have shorter lives. If a star is ten times or more massive than our sun--and Betelgeuse is much more massive than that--it is destined, cosmically speaking, to be short-lived. Betelgeuse has already used up all its hydrogen and it is now fusing helium into heavier elements, in order to counter the force of gravity with an equal centripetal force of its own. Once iron, a very stable element  is reached, however, fusion stops and the star collapses under its own gravity. The resultant explosion is called a supernova. The luminosity of a supernova is at first often brighter than the entire galaxy in which it is located. Then it fades into the utter darkness of a black hole.

Betelgeuse has about 100,000 years left, a cosmic wink. 

Such were the thoughts flashing through my shaken brain as I sat in the chair, holding an ice pack to my left temple. My cerebral supernova lasted only a few seconds.

The next day I had a black eye, several bruises, and a swollen, possibly broken, big toe on my right side--how I got that I don't know. I was sore all over, especially in the region of my left scapula.

For the next few days, I walked with a cane. What was most distressing is that I was unable to get out of bed. Nirmala had to push and or lift me--not an easy task--so that I could make it to the bathroom in time.

Today, three days later, I am a lot better. Just what I needed, a mild concussion!

Am I complaining? Not at all. I am delighted that my injuries weren't more severe. Yes, holding on tightly to the the banister when I walk up the stairs, I've become weaker and older; yet stronger and wiser as well.

Twelve radiation treatments completed, sixteen more to go!