Dec 29, 2014
Having an 8 week or so break between surgery and radiation gave me a physical break but also a mental one. With all the happy distractions combined with few doctor's appointments, I finally started to relax. My fear of re-occurrence kicked into high gear but there were no immediate threats or scary procedures to stress about.
Without realising it, I started to get used to life without treatment. I was starting to move forward. The eve before my first radiation treatment, I started to feel that old familiar sense of apprehension. A new unknown was just beyond the horizon and it almost felt like when you wake from a nightmare and then realise you' re still in it.
Thankfully Bobbi and Eric were with us that night and I had a few glasses of wine. Between the wine and the company my fear subsided until the next day. My parents came over to watch the kids so Phil and I could go to my first appointment. On the ride there I felt totally bummed out. The last few weeks life started to have its non canser related routines. We had lots of family time. I was feeling almost like a person again. And now we were on our way to the hospital to start a whole new canser related regime. Instead of feeling like the last step in a long process, it felt like a step backwards. I finally started to get comfortable with a canser free life and this was like a big neon reminder that I was still "sick".
And it felt so unfair to the kids.
Phil did his best to cheer me up and remind me we knew this was part of treatment and would have to do it eventually, but I was a pretty surly passenger.
We checked in and then put my card in the holder of Unit 8 (which would be my unit for almost all of my treatments) and sat in the waiting area. Most of the people waiting were older than me. Then a kind nurse showed me where to go change for each of the 16 times I had to come for treatment (which was every day with weekends off). There were 4 little cubicles with curtains for doors and a chair and shelving with a pile of hospital gowns in each cubicle.
"Everything off from the waist up, then please go sit back in the waiting area until your name is called." Well at least I got to keep my pants on!
I changed and went back to join my fellow "radioee's". We were all in the same boat - just different parts being radiated. At least I wasn't alone in this - that was strangely comforting.
As we sat there, collecting our thoughts and just prepping mentally for this next part of treatment, a group of doctors and nurses came down the hallway pushing what looked like a rectangle aquarium on wheels. There were 2 family members following. Inside the glass 3 sided box (top was open) it was packed with what looked like oversized bean bags filled with jelly. I watched this strange procession as they came towards us. It was only as they passed us - and into Unit 8 - that we realised a person was in that glass box. Mostly buried under the bean bag type "padding". A small person.
Like child small.
That's when I noticed the young female family member holding what looked like a child's quilt. She must have been the mom.
This is the type of thing that can derail my mental prep. Phil must have realised it at the same moment cause he started talking. To me. About anything and everything. I could feel the emotion rising to the surface.
I was 36 and this was the easiest part of my treatment as everyone told me. But here was a child with God knows what kind of canser having to undergo treatment packed in a glass box. My heart hurt for that little soul and his or her parents.
We watched the box come back out a while later and head down the hall with his or her parents walking closely behind. Maybe that was God's way of saying to me "you think you have it bad and it's scary? What about these guys?" I said a silent prayer for that little warrior.
Then I sucked it up and walked in with shoulders squared when they called me next.
There were 3 techs. 2 women and a man. Kelly had told me everyone was amazing and once again she was right. You'd think that people who are so technical - that have such a technical job - would be a bit...I don't know...stiff or detached. But these people were warm and kind and compassionate. They explained everything.
I walked down a short curved hallway through a very thick (like 12 inches thick-yikes!) door. The room was fairly good sized with a huge machine on the right wall. There was a "bed" that moves up and down and closer to the wall and further away. They asked me to lay on it and put my arms over my head as they covered me with warm blankets. My boots even got to stay on! I had just bought them that weekend and one of the women noticed a tag still on the bottom and pulled it off for me. She was probably younger than me and even asked where I got them etc. They honestly put me as much at ease as you can under the circumstances. My head was pointed towards the wall with the machine and the bed moved backwards toward the machine. Once I was in position, above me was a smaller part of the machine that had glass covering the black opening. That glass part kinda reminded me of old school cameras - like back in the early 1900s. There were green lasers that came from the left wall and right wall that pointed or lined up near the sides of my ribs. There was another laser above me pointing near my right shoulder.
This is where the tattoos come into play. They were lining up the lasers with my tattoos (there is more to it than that). Except my tattoos were so incredibly small they asked if they could re-tattoo me...Which is nice that they asked but really, did I have a choice??
My heart rate increased because this meant needles...and my skin was also less numb than the almost month previous when I was last tattooed (ha never tattooed in my life then twice in 4 weeks!) They gave me a fourth tattoo a few inches lower than my clavicle. It stung a bit but she was fast. They touched up my other tattoos too. But as you can see - the tiny black dot beside the quarter - still very tiny lol (they were amazed how tiny mine turned out!)
Then it was go time.
They put this clear, rubber-feeling, inch thick rectangle material on my bare skin. It covered my right chest area just below my clavicle and went all the way down to just above the bottom of my ribs. They said it was so they could make the treatment stronger....ha-there went my illusion of it protecting me...
They re-lined me up with the machine above my head which was about a foot or so from my face. It was slightly off to the right side. When the woman pushed some buttons on a remote these metal plates behind the glass (that I could see) moved into the exact opening where the radiation would come out. This was from what my radiation oncologist programmed in from that special CT I had for the prep. It was not a circle, or a square - it was an odd shape which kinda made me feel better that it was the exact shape - and no more bigger - than what needed to be radiated.
The machine overhead moved in a big circle over and under me. They took some xrays and were in and out of the room. When they go out of the room - for xrays and treatment - you are alone in the room. They hit a big button and that huge thick door closes with a soft `pft` and a quiet little bell like tone dings until the door is closed.
I'm sure it only takes a few seconds for the door to close but laying there with the machine on an angle to my left (to radiate my chest wall) it felt like a long time. Then a voice on a speaker came on to tell me they were about to start.
My little heart started to pound.
This was it. Point of no return. I was about to get radiation, which was supposed to be easiest of chemo and surgery, but scared me the most. I felt those damn tears well up so I closed my eyes.
As it started (with a distinct ping/ring like noise) I tried to think of being anywhere but where I was. It didn't hurt - although my scar reacted a bit with little pins and needles feeling. The machine then moved directly over me. Not my favourite position as all I could think of was what was the radiation hitting poining straight down? I'm not a doc but pretty sure the lungs are somewhere in that vicinity. Then it moved to my lower right also on an angle. That position had that ding/ring sound and then what I can only describe as what you'd think heat sounds like as its coming out.. in waves. A very distinct sound.
Then it moved under me. I did NOT like this. I couldn't see it and couldn't feel it but wondered what kind of damage it was maybe doing to my other organs and bones...
And then it was over! Each 'radiation' only took like 30 seconds. I was in there for a total of about 30 minutes with all the xrays. When they came back in they told me my next appointments would be faster. Like 10-12 minutes. And that family and friends were welcome to come see the machine and watch me get treatment from the cameras.
As they lowered the bed I had to stop myself from running out. I was glad it was over and now felt better knowing what to expect each visit but didn't want to hang around any longer than I had to. I quickly changed out of my gown but we had to meet with one of the nurses to go over skin care (again) and get my schedule. She asked if I had any Glaxal cream yet. I had actually been told I would get some at Tom Baker but she explained they had just stopped due to budget cuts...I felt a bit stressed at this news cause it was late afternoon and I was worried Shoppers wouldn't have any left and I'd have to wait until the next day to put cream on. I didn't want to start treatment on the wrong foot or unprepared. I felt like I was doing both.
Then she told me to be sure to "air out" once a day for an hour.
"Air out?"
"Yes, you need to let the heat out. So after each treatment find an hour without a shirt on and air it out to let the heat out".
This sounded so bizarre to me. And a little alarming. I tried to keep a poker face.
"And here's your schedule".
It's funny that they call it a schedule. It certainly looks like a schedule. But none of the appointments are confirmed until the day before your treatment. So after today's appointment, there will either be a check mark beside tomorrow's appointment (confirmation) or a new time....This is because there are emergent situations that come up or new patients that also have to endure chemo on same day as radiation (my God!) so they get priority (as they should!!) for what time works for their chemo.
I actually was glad of this because every single one of my appointments was in the afternoon. I had been hoping (and telling them each time they asked) for morning appointments. At least a few. There were none. I tried not to cry (I think the day was catching up to me). That meant the rest of the week we were both home with the kids, our"family time" plans were shot...
My feeling of control over anything once again disappeared as I felt like I handed my life back over to the will of my medical team. My life was back to fitting around canser treatments. Yuck.
I swallowed my disappointment. Only 15 more treatments and this canser crap would be done with.
15.
I could do that.
Having an 8 week or so break between surgery and radiation gave me a physical break but also a mental one. With all the happy distractions combined with few doctor's appointments, I finally started to relax. My fear of re-occurrence kicked into high gear but there were no immediate threats or scary procedures to stress about.
Without realising it, I started to get used to life without treatment. I was starting to move forward. The eve before my first radiation treatment, I started to feel that old familiar sense of apprehension. A new unknown was just beyond the horizon and it almost felt like when you wake from a nightmare and then realise you' re still in it.
Phil did his best to cheer me up and remind me we knew this was part of treatment and would have to do it eventually, but I was a pretty surly passenger.
We checked in and then put my card in the holder of Unit 8 (which would be my unit for almost all of my treatments) and sat in the waiting area. Most of the people waiting were older than me. Then a kind nurse showed me where to go change for each of the 16 times I had to come for treatment (which was every day with weekends off). There were 4 little cubicles with curtains for doors and a chair and shelving with a pile of hospital gowns in each cubicle.
"Everything off from the waist up, then please go sit back in the waiting area until your name is called." Well at least I got to keep my pants on!
I changed and went back to join my fellow "radioee's". We were all in the same boat - just different parts being radiated. At least I wasn't alone in this - that was strangely comforting.
As we sat there, collecting our thoughts and just prepping mentally for this next part of treatment, a group of doctors and nurses came down the hallway pushing what looked like a rectangle aquarium on wheels. There were 2 family members following. Inside the glass 3 sided box (top was open) it was packed with what looked like oversized bean bags filled with jelly. I watched this strange procession as they came towards us. It was only as they passed us - and into Unit 8 - that we realised a person was in that glass box. Mostly buried under the bean bag type "padding". A small person.
Like child small.
That's when I noticed the young female family member holding what looked like a child's quilt. She must have been the mom.
This is the type of thing that can derail my mental prep. Phil must have realised it at the same moment cause he started talking. To me. About anything and everything. I could feel the emotion rising to the surface.
I was 36 and this was the easiest part of my treatment as everyone told me. But here was a child with God knows what kind of canser having to undergo treatment packed in a glass box. My heart hurt for that little soul and his or her parents.
We watched the box come back out a while later and head down the hall with his or her parents walking closely behind. Maybe that was God's way of saying to me "you think you have it bad and it's scary? What about these guys?" I said a silent prayer for that little warrior.
Then I sucked it up and walked in with shoulders squared when they called me next.
There were 3 techs. 2 women and a man. Kelly had told me everyone was amazing and once again she was right. You'd think that people who are so technical - that have such a technical job - would be a bit...I don't know...stiff or detached. But these people were warm and kind and compassionate. They explained everything.
I walked down a short curved hallway through a very thick (like 12 inches thick-yikes!) door. The room was fairly good sized with a huge machine on the right wall. There was a "bed" that moves up and down and closer to the wall and further away. They asked me to lay on it and put my arms over my head as they covered me with warm blankets. My boots even got to stay on! I had just bought them that weekend and one of the women noticed a tag still on the bottom and pulled it off for me. She was probably younger than me and even asked where I got them etc. They honestly put me as much at ease as you can under the circumstances. My head was pointed towards the wall with the machine and the bed moved backwards toward the machine. Once I was in position, above me was a smaller part of the machine that had glass covering the black opening. That glass part kinda reminded me of old school cameras - like back in the early 1900s. There were green lasers that came from the left wall and right wall that pointed or lined up near the sides of my ribs. There was another laser above me pointing near my right shoulder.
This is where the tattoos come into play. They were lining up the lasers with my tattoos (there is more to it than that). Except my tattoos were so incredibly small they asked if they could re-tattoo me...Which is nice that they asked but really, did I have a choice??
Then it was go time.
They put this clear, rubber-feeling, inch thick rectangle material on my bare skin. It covered my right chest area just below my clavicle and went all the way down to just above the bottom of my ribs. They said it was so they could make the treatment stronger....ha-there went my illusion of it protecting me...
They re-lined me up with the machine above my head which was about a foot or so from my face. It was slightly off to the right side. When the woman pushed some buttons on a remote these metal plates behind the glass (that I could see) moved into the exact opening where the radiation would come out. This was from what my radiation oncologist programmed in from that special CT I had for the prep. It was not a circle, or a square - it was an odd shape which kinda made me feel better that it was the exact shape - and no more bigger - than what needed to be radiated.
The machine overhead moved in a big circle over and under me. They took some xrays and were in and out of the room. When they go out of the room - for xrays and treatment - you are alone in the room. They hit a big button and that huge thick door closes with a soft `pft` and a quiet little bell like tone dings until the door is closed.
I'm sure it only takes a few seconds for the door to close but laying there with the machine on an angle to my left (to radiate my chest wall) it felt like a long time. Then a voice on a speaker came on to tell me they were about to start.
My little heart started to pound.
This was it. Point of no return. I was about to get radiation, which was supposed to be easiest of chemo and surgery, but scared me the most. I felt those damn tears well up so I closed my eyes.
As it started (with a distinct ping/ring like noise) I tried to think of being anywhere but where I was. It didn't hurt - although my scar reacted a bit with little pins and needles feeling. The machine then moved directly over me. Not my favourite position as all I could think of was what was the radiation hitting poining straight down? I'm not a doc but pretty sure the lungs are somewhere in that vicinity. Then it moved to my lower right also on an angle. That position had that ding/ring sound and then what I can only describe as what you'd think heat sounds like as its coming out.. in waves. A very distinct sound.
Then it moved under me. I did NOT like this. I couldn't see it and couldn't feel it but wondered what kind of damage it was maybe doing to my other organs and bones...
And then it was over! Each 'radiation' only took like 30 seconds. I was in there for a total of about 30 minutes with all the xrays. When they came back in they told me my next appointments would be faster. Like 10-12 minutes. And that family and friends were welcome to come see the machine and watch me get treatment from the cameras.
As they lowered the bed I had to stop myself from running out. I was glad it was over and now felt better knowing what to expect each visit but didn't want to hang around any longer than I had to. I quickly changed out of my gown but we had to meet with one of the nurses to go over skin care (again) and get my schedule. She asked if I had any Glaxal cream yet. I had actually been told I would get some at Tom Baker but she explained they had just stopped due to budget cuts...I felt a bit stressed at this news cause it was late afternoon and I was worried Shoppers wouldn't have any left and I'd have to wait until the next day to put cream on. I didn't want to start treatment on the wrong foot or unprepared. I felt like I was doing both.
Then she told me to be sure to "air out" once a day for an hour.
"Air out?"
"Yes, you need to let the heat out. So after each treatment find an hour without a shirt on and air it out to let the heat out".
This sounded so bizarre to me. And a little alarming. I tried to keep a poker face.
"And here's your schedule".
It's funny that they call it a schedule. It certainly looks like a schedule. But none of the appointments are confirmed until the day before your treatment. So after today's appointment, there will either be a check mark beside tomorrow's appointment (confirmation) or a new time....This is because there are emergent situations that come up or new patients that also have to endure chemo on same day as radiation (my God!) so they get priority (as they should!!) for what time works for their chemo.
I actually was glad of this because every single one of my appointments was in the afternoon. I had been hoping (and telling them each time they asked) for morning appointments. At least a few. There were none. I tried not to cry (I think the day was catching up to me). That meant the rest of the week we were both home with the kids, our"family time" plans were shot...
My feeling of control over anything once again disappeared as I felt like I handed my life back over to the will of my medical team. My life was back to fitting around canser treatments. Yuck.
I swallowed my disappointment. Only 15 more treatments and this canser crap would be done with.
15.
I could do that.
The Final Countdown - by Europe (YouTube)
You have such an interesting blog. Thanks for sharing, I enjoyed reading your posts. All the best for your future blogging journey.
ReplyDeleteThank you Sridhar!
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