RADIATION

Radiation is barbaric. Chemo is more so, but if I am going to get my flesh toasted, can’t it be a less odious procedure? Doctors told me that my options were to get cooked every weekday for a month or have Brachytherapy, in which a  probe the size of a thumb was inserted and left 24/7 for a week, with twice daily visits for five days to insert radioactive seeds. This would require restricting basic activities like showers and would hurt. This probe resembled an thumb-sized egg beater, with tubes sticking out. Nope. Nope, nope, nope. That thing in my body? How would it even fit? My second thought was can’t they do better?

Reading too many internet articles on radiation side effects had scared me. Flesh blisters, hardened flesh and fatigue sounded terrible. Did I really need to do this?

My medical oncologist suggested a doctor that has a week long/twice per day external beam radiation treatment, with no interior eggbeater probe. This seemed too good to be true, because the surgeon had not thought it an option and the radiation doctor had not offered it. Going twice a day would be pain, but the short time line could minimize side effects of fatigue and possible skin damage.

My first appointment with the radiation oncologist got off to a rocky start because she was late, but she seemed like nice. She apologized for the delay and explained that she had been using this radiation method for twenty years and that the short time period was an advantage. Wanting to get this treatment over quickly, I was sold.

The second appointment, a technician cat-scanned the area to be radiated and made a mold of the body to position it precisely. They also tattooed the point where the machine zaps the flesh.

The first treatment took about twenty minutes.  Ill-timed road construction made me late, which only added to the stress. My body was positioned and I had to lay still the whole time with my arms overhead gripping the hand rest. The machine hummed and whistled, passing to the right, then stopping for what seemed five minutes. Nothing felt hot when the beam moved over me. The round part of its head then rotated and passed back across to the left. The only thing to stare at besides the machine was the green laser light across the ceiling. Too bad a picture wasn’t up there to look at to ease the tedium. When it was done, someone came in the room to help me get up.

The decor of this place was much better than the usual medical institution. The waiting room was round with a tall ceiling, enhanced by organic wood cut outs and a fancy chandelier. The dressing room was decorated with butterflies. Still, I just wanted to get in and out in a hurry. After the radiation, I rubbed cream on the affected body part, which was red and hot, then got the hell out of there.

The after effects were sneaky. They would come and go and sometimes stay. I felt fine driving away the first time, then suddenly felt weak, tired and a little queasy. I continued to my destination, but didn’t feel that good.  I considered going home, but continued on. I felt a little better after a while. 

I got a swim in, then lunch. Exercise kept me sane through this process, even if I was too tired to do it well. It was something under my control that made life seem more normal. In the afternoon, I returned to the place using a different route.

I repeated the pattern. The next day, I ran, then went to the radiation place again. I didn’t feel woozy, but was tired. I got some grocery shopping done afterwards. The yucky feeling came later in the day. The breast was sore and looked a little red, but wasn’t too bad.  

The third day I felt tired and weak in the morning and it continued through the afternoon. I told the doctor, but she didn’t offer much help. It was something to suck up and get on with. A nap  helped. 

The fourth day I ran again, then felt crappy for the first appointment. Then, swimming in the cold weather, which was uncomfortable. The stiff wind blew on my wet arms. It was a struggle to keep going through the fatigue, but I stubbornly persisted.

In the afternoon, a nap beckoned, but had to wait until after the second appointment. The pattern of exhaustion seemed to be worse in the morning, better in the afternoon.

Friday and the last day of radiation! I felt icky again after the morning session. Afterwards, I saw the doctor. My usually low blood pressure was very high again.  My left arm has a lower reading, but they won’t use that one anymore, due to it being on the side of the surgery site. Maybe it was a problem to be looked into, or maybe it was stress. The fatigue after treatment will get worse for a while, then get better. The skin looked a little red, but was otherwise okay. Skin reactions can occur up to ten days after treatment.

Were they Really Gone?

I got to hit the shiny golden metal gong for the last treatment. Was this ordeal really over? The fatigue, the nausea and the stress? I almost felt a sense of guilt not going through as much as other cancer patients. Only a month of treatment with surgery and radiation. A week later, I felt almost normal again. I was lucky to be relatively unscathed. Maybe the ghost cells were still there, but the original Seeds of Death must be gone. In the mushy medical world of prediction, radiation was supposed to prevent re-occurrence, but not with total certainty.

What a relief. Life could move forward again. Or so I thought.

NEXT UP: CHEMO