The Radiation Chronicles: Fifth treatment

Friday June 26th and another beautiful sunny summer morning heralded my fifth, and hopefully last, radiation treatment.   My previous nights pain and emotion had remarkably dissipated, no doubt due to the rest achieved with the help of Tylenol-3's.  I was certainly in a better frame of mind, and wanted this process to be over as quickly as possible. So once more I'm in the waiting room outside the treatment area, when my name is called.  It's time for my last treatment

This time my session  has  a novelty -- I will be part of a teaching exercise.  For the past several weeks a young student has been both observing and working with the regular staff on my particular treatment.  I had first encountered this student during my CT mapping process some two weeks prior.  She was also present at several of my treatments this week.  Today she would be going solo, and I would be her victim patient.

Although the staff knows me by sight, they have always adhered to the formalities:  Ask the patient their date of birth.  Confirm that the treatment is for a specific condition.   Ask if the patient has any questions.  For a brief instant my mischievous side wanted to throw out a flippant answer to see how she responds, but wisely thought better of it.   She worked efficiently and methodically, dotting all the i's and crossing all the t's.  She situated my leg for its final treatment and retreated to the control room with her two proctors.  Ten minutes later we both had reason to smile:  my treatment was complete and the earnest young student had successfully completed her training exercise.

Now it was  reward time.  I presented the box of chocolates I had brought with me as a token of thanks to the student, with a suggestion to share with her coworkers.   Big smiles on everyone's face as I left the Radiation Therapy department, hopefully for the last time.  For me it is important to let those caring for me know how much I appreciate their dedication and efforts.  Little things, like a smile, a kind word of thanks, or even a box of chocolates lets people know you are grateful.

In the weeks to come my leg would feel better, and sometimes worse. There was improvement, but I suspect the damage is done.  Gone are my days of being able to walk for hours without efforts.  Now I walk with a limp, but my journey still continues.

The Radiation Chronicles IV: Crash

   Yesterday I was in an out of my treatment in record time.   Everything seemed to be going great for me.   Today I'm having my fourth treatment and already my left leg is experiencing significant pain.  It's a painful throbbing that just won't go away.  No repositioning of the leg was comfortable for long.   My sleep the previous night was constantly interrupted by my incessant moving and leg irritation.  I woke up before dawn, exhausted.   I hoped I would be able to remain still for my treatment.

   Mercifully this treatment, like the day prior, was brief.   As I walked out of the treatment room through the Cancer Clinic I recalled the words of my Radiation Oncologist and nurse just two days before:  that the pain would increase as the treatment took effect.  It appears they were correct.

  After treatment it was normal for me to return to work.  I had a miserable day because of my leg.  The pain never went away, never subsided.  No position standing or sitting was comfortable.  Ibuprofen, which up to now had relieved my pain, simply had no effect.  By 4:00PM,  exhausted and with little accomplished at  work, I gave up and left for home.  My only goal now was to fill my prescription that the Oncologist had given me on Tuesday.  I hoped it would be enough.

  I rode my bike from work to home.  Formerly biking was an activity that I enjoyed because it was relatively pain free.  Cruelly my disease was claiming even this cherished activity from me.  My ride home was short, less than ten minutes, but I was crying by the time I arrived at my house, worn out by the battle raging in my shin. Yet I still needed my prescription filled.   The tears I could brush away, the pain I endured as best as I could.  I  would ride another ten minutes to the pharmacy and submit my prescription.   While the pharmacist filled my prescription, I sat nearby, letting the tears flow, head down, wondering if my days would remain like this. My name is being called, my pharmacist has my prescription ready.  As I pay my share of it, the pharmacist comments that I don't get a lot of pain meds.

 I leave the pharmacy but need to make one more stop. I had forgotten to pick up something for my techs at the Cancer Clinic.  A small token to show that we patients are grateful for the care and quality of treatment administered.   Finally I arrive home, and my pain meds - Tylenol-3's - advised 1-2 tablets every few hours as needed.  I start with one for now.

 This pain is nowhere near as acute as what I felt when I had kidney stones some years back.   Yet it was enough to exhaust me physically and drain all my energies.  As I lay on the couch, the pill gradually took effect, dulling my perception enough that I could fall into an exhausted sleep that my body and mind so desperately needed.  The meds were working.

The Radiation Chronicles: Treatment Three-Fastest. Treatment. Ever

   It's a sunny June morning, with the rich blue sky that has no hint of humidity.  The day is more Spring than Summer, and should truly be enjoyed.  I however am inside a cancer clinic waiting area, ready for my third round of radiation treatment.  Before I can even get my Samsung media player online, a friendly tech is calling my name.  Treatment is about to start.

  By now I have an established routine before getting on the table:   I divest my pockets of all items:  keys, wallet, electronic devices and loose change.  My shoes are off and my left sock is removed.  Once that task is accomplished, I can lay on the table, where my feet are placed into the plastic holders.  The pillows prop up my head, but my legs being slightly raised cause some aches in the back of my knees.   One of the techs was  with me on my first treatment on Monday and remembers me.  I feel embarrassed as I never quite remember any of their names.

  Positioning my leg went remarkably fast.  Even the process of treatment seemed to go quick.  I supposed I might have been daydreaming, as my sense of time passing simply wasn't registering. It seemed like only moments from when the techs departed the room to returning again.  I felt good and perhaps because the fine weather,  there was an optimism that I hadn't had for a long while.  I decided I should treat myself to a little reward.

  Steimar Bakery is  a local institution, know for fine breads and superb  pastries.   My return to work would see us stop there for a treat.  I felt so good I even ordered a coffee, something I had almost never had in the past year. Blueberry Danish and coffee.  Sunshine and blue skies. The aroma of freshly-baked bread.   The richness of this experience was not simply because I have cancer, but that I took the time to appreciate the moment for what it was -something I simply enjoyed for it's own sake. 

  Today I was in good spirits, my treatment is half over, and things seemed to be going great.   That would change by tomorrow,  as I would experience a complete 180 degree reversal of emotions. 

The Radiation Chronices: Second Treatment

     All my treatments save today's ( Tuesday June 23rd), were scheduled for  8:30AM.  Because I was to meet with my Radiation Oncologist, this  treatment was scheduled for 1:30PM.   Which was extremely fortunate, as I would have missed it if was earlier.

   Monday had been an energy-expending day for me, and I crashed that night into an exhausted sleep.  So tired was I that the thunderstorm that rolled through before dawn didn't wake me.  It did however interrupt the power, and that caused my clock radio to reset.  Which allowed me to sleep in.  It wasn't until nearly 9:00AM that I awoke.  Since all my appointments that week save today's were for 8:30AM, I guess I was fortunate for the later treatment time.

  Having reset my alarm clock I was able to attend my next treatment in a somewhat more leisurely manner.  As I was no longer a "Treatment Newby", my registration at the Radiation Registration desk was perfunctory, and I wandered down to the assigned Patient Waiting Room.  I know what to expect now, so I'm pretty comfortable with the process.  Today however I have different techs than last time, and it was interesting to see how they approached the set up for aligning my leg for treatment.

  There was a bit more jockeying of my leg to position it 'just so', and the longer they fiddled with the setup, the more the back of knees ached.  I guess I should stretch before I do this next time.  Once the techs are satisfied they return to the safety of the control room behind me and the treatment commences.  Once more the table raises, and the treatment machine  does it's eerie slow-motion traversal around my leg.  I have this fleeting vision that I've seen this on an X-files episode before.  Hopefully it's not a repressed memory!

 As before, the process completion is indicated by the return of the techs, and the lowering of the table back to 'ground zero'.  As it seems to happen more often, my getting up from a prone position on my back involves a bit of gymnastic maneuvering and the occasional assistance from a friendly tech.  My second treatment is over,  and back  I go to the Radiation Reception desk.  Where I wait for my follow-up appointment with the oncologist.

 It wasn't a very long wait, and I'm brought into the exam room.  My nurse is going over her checklist and asking if I have any concerns or symptoms.  So far nothing other than my sore leg which I've attributed to over-exertion from my "walking" attempts yesterday.  The nurse exits, and the doctor enters, almost like a tag-team match.

 Basically they're seeing if my leg, in particular the skin, is having any irritation or other reactions.  I could expect a light sunburn effect in the next few days, or possibly some other irritation.  But the main concern is my level of pain.  Both the doctor and nurse have expressed concern that if I'm having pain to let them know immediately.   Although I'm hesitant to become reliant on drugs, there's simply no value in suffering.   Stoicism is overrated.  So I have  a prescription for Tylenol-3, and I resolve that I wouldn't fill the prescription until I needed them.  If I knew what was going to happen in two more days I would have filled it immediately after leaving the Hospital!

  However the doctor doesn't see any immediate issues with my leg, and won't need to follow up with me until October.  Unless there's a problem, then I am to notify the Cancer Center immediately.  

  I'm feeling pretty confident about the treatment right now, and while it's not letting me walk in my usual way, the amount of distress seems to be getting less.  Time will tell, and with only three more treatments remaining, I am told I will expect significant relief.   Tomorrow I resume my 8:30AM appointment times.  Hope I don't sleep in!