Radiation

I have hesitated to write much about radiation because, as I have mentioned, I don't really want to think about it. The radiation itself isn't so bad, but the fact that I am, once again, a Cancer Patient, truly stinks. When do I get to be Kristina, and not Cancer Patient?

But back to radiation:
The routine is very simple. I show up, and walk straight back to the change rooms, where I strip everything from the waist up and put on an oh-so-ugly gown that ties in the front. Then, I wait alongside other similarly clad people (although some people have to take off their pants and put on hospital-style pants instead of a gown, which leads me to speculate who has what type of cancer) for one of the technicians to come and get me.

I have a team of several people who do my radiation. Jude and Luz are there every day, and I like them both - Jude has a sparkle in his eyes and is quick to make a joke, but he's also incredibly kind and gentled; Luz exudes calm and patience and makes me immediately feel cared for - and then there is usually one, sometimes two, other people who work with them. I undo my gown and slip my left arm out of the sleeve, exposing my chest where the breast used to be, and I lie down on the thin "bed" of the radiation machine (I say "bed" in quotes because it's a thin, uncomfortable plank, really, not even as comfortable as a stretcher) with my left arm held above my head. My team surrounds me, and through a combination of moving the machine and moving me (it's my job to lay stone still, and not "help" by moving myself as they move me, because their movements are often only a couple of millimeters and I'm likely to over-correct if I "help") they line me up. I have two small tattoos - one on my breastbone and one under my left arm - that help them line me up, and I also have two stickers with marks on them in the middle of my chest (one of which is clearly visible when I wear a V or scoop neck - it's pretty high up) that they use to align me. Additionally, each day they draw on me with markers, outlining the radiation area. After I'm lined up, they place a sort of cover on the area to be radiated (it has an official name which I've already forgotten, but the techs refer to it as "the waffle" because of it's waffled appearance) that brings the radiation up higher on my skin (do I have this right?).

When I am suitably marked in ink and lined up under the machine, which takes a few minutes as precision is everything, the technicians throw me a kind word and then leave the room. They watch me on video camera, as there are 10 inch thick lead doors between me and them to protect them as I am radiated. (This does not make me feel confident or secure, let me tell you.) The machine begins to hum, and there is a red light mounted on the wall that flashes a warning while I am radiated. The red light seems like a dire warning, like an air raid siren with lights perhaps, and it makes me nervous. I lay there, exposed, red light flashing and radiation machine whirring. Then the techs come in, reposition the waffle and some parts of the machine, and repeat the process two more times, radiating slightly different areas each time. (My breastbone receives radation, but it's only superficial compared to the rest of my chest, for example, so the machine is positioned differently with a special attachment.)

After a few minutes, it's done, and I can lower my aching left arm, jump down off the machine (which I like to do because it's a way of saying "I'm not a sick person! I can get down without help!" but which makes the techs nervous, as if a six inch jump is somehow going to make me hurt myself), re-tie my gown, and walk back through the waiting room to get dressed in the dressing room. I throw my gown in the hamper, grab my purse, and walk back to my car. Done.

Except Fridays, when I also see the doctor (radiation oncologist) to talk about my progress.

As yet, I have no idea if I feel fatigue. If I DO feel fatigue, I fully intend to ignore it as long as possible, but right now I don't think that I do. (And I'm happy in denial, thank you very much.) I do not yet have any signs of redness or pain on my chest, though these are expected eventually. I have a prescription cream that I rub on my chest three times a day, and I am only wearing cotton next to my skin, and no more underwire bras or anything that might rub, in order to keep skin integrity. I've heard plenty of stories and seen some examples of radiated skin, and it's not pretty. Mostly, I don't let myself think about it.

While in radiation, I am not allowed to wear deoderant or shave under my left arm. (So that's what you smelled!) I am also not allowed to take hot baths, or allow particularly hot or cold water next to my skin, and I'm to avoid pools and sunshine (not hard at this time of year) until about a month after treatment (at which point my skin should have healed). The theory is that I'm lucky that I had a mastectomy, because I don't have much sensation (the nerves were all cut) on my left chest where I'm being radiatated, so the burns that will occur shouldn't hurt too much. I certainly hope that's true!

Three treatments down, thirty to go.

Love,
Kristina