Getting Better, Part II
Sat., October 23, 09:42 AM
By the end of August, I had indeed finished with the chemo. This is a milestone, and I was feeling pretty good about it. Not only had I survived the ordeal. For six months my vital signs had been monitored weekly, and they were good. My weight hadn’t varied more than a pound or two either way. My blood pressure was good. An EKG performed halfway through was unremarkable. Once again, “…pretty good shape…”
I went on to radiation therapy. My radiologist is wonderful too, and she also understands my HHT, having worked on that condition. In comparison to chemo, this should be easy.
Radiation was daily, at 7:30 a.m. I chose the early appointment so that I wouldn’t get caught late in the afternoon as the days got shorter. I also figured I would then have the rest of the day in front of me.
This would be thirty-five treatments – weekends and holidays off – and I did finish before the clocks changed, although the gloomy mornings were a little scary toward the end. (No doubt about it – I should never drive in the dark.)
Fatigue did set in as predicted, but I don’t know if I can blame that on the radiation. I had barely begun treatments when Husband went into crisis and forgot to breathe – couldn’t even let me be the center of attention for a few months, I guess – and, as I told the doctor, there was just a lot going on.
Radiation therapy was different in a lot of ways. Because it’s non-invasive, I could concentrate more on how it was done – the laser lights lining up my markings, the computer timing the exposure, and so forth. (When I felt the techs re-marking the +'s on me, I pointed out that, if they got three X's in a row, they won.) Even checking in was different; patients scan their bar-coded IDs to let the techs inside know they’ve arrived.
After checking in, you proceeded to the dressing room to don one of the famous “three-armed” gowns (which keep you modestly covered but leave your scars easily accessible). And then we waited, and some of the women chatted. Once again, I realized just how fortunate I was. One young woman was suffering from lung cancer – evidently a sudden, aggressive type. Her greatest worry was the effect it was having on her child; she changed her appointment time so that she could see the child off to school.
Another young woman had undergone a double “prophylactic” mastectomy, a procedure done to prevent breast cancer in women who have an extensive family history of breast cancer. Her surgeon had discovered a “seed,” too small to be detected by ordinary procedures, that had nevertheless invaded her lymph nodes already. She had to undergo all the treatments they were trying to avoid.
I developed a radiation burn about two thirds through my treatments. It was an irritation, painful at time, but never serious. Like a sunburn, it eventually sloughed off the top layer of cells and started to heal. But one woman I spoke with developed a much larger burn that opened up and oozed for weeks.
All of these women were younger than I; what a tragedy to encounter when you're in the middle of things! So, you see, I’m lucky. I made it without incident.
What’s next? I’ll continue seeing both the oncologist and the radiologist every few months. I’ll be taking some kind of pills for the next five years. My type of cancer is not particularly aggressive (not “angry” cells), and it responds well to some of the new preventative medications.
I have to have another mammogram in a few months. And it may take some time for me to regain my strength.
But I did get better. Y’know, I told you I would.
