Radiation Therapy has begun.

 

On Monday, March 31, I began radiation therapy. I’ll have a total of 33 treatments over 6 ½ weeks.  Monday through Friday. 

The entire process takes 15 minutes or less.  The actual radiation takes 5 minutes.   

I lie down on the mold that was made during the planning session, and the technicians adjust my position so that my three little tattoo dots line up with the lasers.  Then the machine does a CT scan which takes a couple of minutes.  They review the scan image to make sure I’m properly positioned. Then they zap me for 5 minutes.  That’s all there is to it.

After only 3 treatments, there’s no visible effect on my skin yet.  I expect some sunburn-like reddening over time; and hope it gets no worse than that. 

Here’s a link to a Wikipedia article with a photo of the machine that zaps me. It’s a high tech wonder.

 

 

 

Radiation Treatment Planning

The process for planning radiation treatment is more complex than I’d ever imagined.  I finally Googled it today.  I’d called to let my radiation oncologist’s office know that I’m ready to begin – my temperature is back to normal and I’m feeling much better.   The technician promptly scheduled me to begin treatment today.  But then I got a call from her this morning saying that she’d jumped the gun and that my treatment plan was still in the physics department and was not yet complete.  

So what goes into a radiation treatment plan?  Here’s a brief explanation. Wow!

 My treatment starts on Monday, March 31. 

 

 

 

Radiation Planning Appointment

Today was my radiation planning appointment.  Very interesting. 

The object is to get you positioned so that the radiation gets to the right place – and to make sure that you’ll be in precisely that same position for every treatment. 

To do this, they make a mold also called a cradle. Here’s a link to one brand of cradle.

Radiation Cradle

Once I was in the basic position, it was a matter of fine tuning – lots of minor adjustments until the technician thought she had it correct.  Then she called in the physicist who took a look and gave his approval. Next was setting the mold – a little more pushing and shoving to make sure my position would remain stable. She made X marks where the lasers were hitting.  One on each side and one on my chest.

Then the radiation oncologist came in and put little stickers all over.  These will show up on the CT scan.  My head was positioned so that I couldn’t see any of this. 

Then came the CT scan.  Didn’t take more than a couple of minutes. 

Once the scan is done, the technician removes all the stickers and proceeds to the tattoos..  At the center of each X she put a drop of dye and then stuck it with a tiny needle.  These will be the targets for the lasers when I have each treatment. Not exactly body art, but probably the closest I’ll come. 

They had me scheduled to start treatment next week, but that’s been postponed because I’ve been feeling really crappy lately.  Running a slight temperature, not able to eat much, and just no energy at all.  Had some blood tests yesterday to see if anything shows up.  I wonder if I haven’t just got myself into a self-perpetuating downward spiral.   Not eating is not good and leads to lack of energy, and all the other problems, etc.  So I’m trying to get some good food and plenty of fluids inside me to see if that makes a difference.  Would be nice if it was a simple as that. 

In the meantime, my head fuzz continues to grow very slowly.  I can actually feel it moving when it is windy. 

Taste buds are still AWOL.

 

 

 

Chemo done- waiting for radiation

Nine days after my final chemo treatment, I see some small progress.  My brain isn’t as fuzzy as it was; and I have actual little bursts of energy.  I think that I’m a tiny bit less of a slug than I was a couple of weeks ago.  Bad news is that there’s NO progress with my taste buds.  

 

A timely query from a cousin gave me a jump start back in my genealogy projects.  I was very into that for a couple of days, but then ran out of energy.  But I’ve got a good start on resuming the things I was working on before all this cancer stuff started.

I had a good meeting with my radiation oncologist.  Side effects from that should be limited to fatigue and skin damage similar to severe sunburn.  I’m so fair that I’ve had more than my share of severe sunburns so I know what it’s like to have blisters & peeling.  Next meeting is a planning meeting on March 18 to set up preparation and schedule.  I’ll get zapped every day Monday through Friday for 6 ½ weeks.  At least it’s only a 10 minute drive from home.

Hair continues to regrow slowly. Very slowly. But at least it’s there. 

With any luck, my brain will continue to clear and I’ll find my energy level increasing.  Come on taste buds!!!!!!

 

 

The Chemo Club

 

Nobody wants to join. We become members by circumstance –  like drawing the short straw. 

My chapter of the club gathers on Thursday mornings.  I’ve seen some of the same faces since I joined the club in October. Others have come in beginning their treatment; while others have left the group because they’ve finished treatment or their circumstances have changed. 

Like every club, we have a common bond. In this case its cancer. There’s a certain feeling in the room – a sense of compassion and camaraderie because of that bond.  It doesn’t matter that we probably are very different in every other way.  A few of them are clearly very ill, but others show no external signs of disease.  Some love to chat, some play computer games or read magazines or books. Occasionally someone will ask a person what kind of cancer is being treated; others may volunteer their condition, but I truly have no idea what cancer most of them have.  But it is clear from the smiles and the looks in everyone’s eyes that we are connected to one another. 

My final chemo treatment is coming up this week. I’m thrilled to be finally done. I’m really looking forward to having the chemo side effects going away.  But I’ll miss seeing the Thursday morning chemo club.  I’ll wonder how they’re doing and keep them in my prayers. 

I cannot end this post without adding praise for the staff at my treatment center. They’re all great.  Nurses, assistants, office staff.  I don’t have words to express my appreciation for their work, their compassion and their dedication.  Angels, all of them.

 

 

 

Almost done with chemo

 

Taxol #10 yesterday.  Two more to go. White Blood Cell count was low so I go back this afternoon for a Neupogen shot. 

Benadryl sleepiness wore off by late afternoon to be replaced by the steroid high. Took an Ativan (Lorazipam) before bed to help get to sleep.  I’m sure glad that I don’t need to take that stuff regularly – it can be very nasty stuff. 

The steroid high will wear off late today or early tomorrow and then I’ll crash.  I take fewer steroids with Taxol than I did with the A/C so the crash is shorter but it still feels like getting hit by a train. Naps are the answer. 

Although the drug effects are cumulative, my side effects are still very minor. Some distressed nails but none have come off.  Occasional tingling in fingers. Occasional bone pain in knees ankle and toes but nothing serious. 

The fuzz on my head is becoming more noticeable but only if you look hard.  I’m still a baldy – but a fuzzy baldy.

 

 

 

Seeing the light at the end of the tunnel

 

Had Taxol #9 yesterday.  Still going well.  Minor side effects still include fatigue, no taste buds, fuzzy brain, some digestive issues, some fingernail issues, minor bone pain and some tingling in the hands. 

The only one of them of any concern is the tingling.  Hoping it doesn’t develop into neuropathy which may be the only side effect that won’t reverse itself. 

I’m ready to be finished with this.  I know it will take a while for the effects to diminish but I’m hopeful that by mid march I’ll be able to taste food again.  I really miss my taste buds. 

Of course the following radiation treatments will have another set of side effects.  Oh, well. 

I thought I’d get started on taxes, but that hasn’t happened yet.  Requires too much thinking.

Thinking is not my strong point these days.  On the breastcancer.org site there’s a thread about vanity.  All participants talk about matters of appearance.  My vanity issue has to do with my mental abilities.  I hate being so fuzzy.  I find that I can’t read some of my favorite authors because their stories are too complex.  Very frustrating. 

Despite my whining about minor issues, things are going very well. 

I’m fascinated by the fuzz on my head.  I keep touching it so often that I’m afraid I’ll rub it off. Grow, hair, grow!

Only 3 more chemo treatments to go.!