Some of you may have given up on me continuing my blog after
chemo. I certainly had. It seemed that every time I thought about writing
anything, my mind just shut down. I finally did get some thoughts put together,
and then my computer crashed. I had to reinstall Windows, and of course, lost
my files on the desktop.
I am now 10 weeks PFC which stands for Post Final Chemo (or
as some in the breast cancer community say, “Post F&*^$%g Chemo.” I still
have some of the chemo effects which are gradually going away such as “tree
rings” on my fingernails, some food dislikes which I developed during chemo,
but which have stuck with me, and of course, hair or the lack thereof.
As of today, I have slightly more hair than the baby.
It is very soft, short and salt/pepper colored. My husband
says it looks like I have a five o’clock shadow on my head.
During this massive hair growing time, I have been able to
experience the delights of radiation. I met with my Radiation Oncologist on
February 25th and I really liked her. She said that I would have a
series of 31 radiation treatments – 25 “whole breast” and 6 boosts – just to
the tumor bed. I figure that if I start glowing in the dark after this, I can
read my Kindle by my boob light!
On March 1, I went for my radiation simulation. Here they
place you on a table, form fit a plastic mold to your body (it is warm when
they first put it around you, and as it cools, it hardens,) CT scan to see
where everything is, and take lots of pictures – X-rays and otherwise. I also
get four tattoos to line up with the laser beams (very small – looks like a
freckle) – I did ask for color and shape (Stars? Butterflies?) but was refused,
and lots of sharpie drawings on my chest and boob. It takes something around an
hour and 15 minutes to complete. Did I mention that I am half-naked with my
arms up over my head for all of this?
After they get all this information, they must “map” the amount
of radiation delivered to the breast area while avoiding or minimizing
radiation to other parts of the body. Since my cancer was on my left breast, it
is especially important that they avoid my heart and lungs. They do this by several means – angled fields
that skim across the chest, special blocking in the machine to avoid radiation
to normal tissues, wedges in the path of the beam to bend the dose of
radiation, and me holding my breath to keep my heart and lungs away from the
beams. The last method is the least precise.
Once the mapping was completed, I went in for “filming.”
Now, I am on my mold or cradle as the technicians call it, and there are lots
of adjustments to my body, more sharpie drawings, and lots and lots of x-rays. The
linear accelerator machine looks something like a giant Kitchen Aid mixer
without the beaters.The cartoon figure does NOT have her arms
over her head. This is important to remember as it is one of the worst
things.
I’m given my special gel to try to keep my skin from burning
up, and I go home to wait for March 15 to start the everyday Monday through
Friday trek to the hospital for 31 days.
I expected the first treatment to take longer, and I was not
disappointed. They seemed to have a horrible time getting my body placed “just
so.” While I am grateful for their dedication to precision, the arms over the
head really do get old, especially my left arm which is still numb in places
from surgery, and which is also trying to develop some lymphedema. Radiation
can exacerbate lymphedema, so I’m continuing to see my therapist, and she is
training me in Manual Lymphatic Drainage. She is also fitting me for a compression
sleeve and glove which I will have to wear to keep the swelling down.
The next several treatments seem inordinately long, most
especially the third one, where I was left assuming the position for what seemed
like hours while they got the doctor in to look at the problem. The problem was
that the machine was saying one thing, my body another, and they didn’t want to
zap me until they had the final word on what was correct. They take placement
very seriously – down to the millimeter, and this is important.
It has now become a routine - get up, have coffee, shower,
dress, drive to the hospital, get zapped, come home. The side effects are not
nearly as bad as chemo. My skin started out with a slight reddening which would
fade by the next day – kind of like when you get a little sun. Then, the red
became redder and stayed longer. Now I have a couple of really dark red areas,
and the red doesn’t go away. I have occasional stabbing, burning pains, but not
severe and not for long periods. As of right now, I do not have any breaks in
my skin or blisters, so I am very happy about that.
The fatigue, however, is something else. It’s very hard to make yourself do anything,
and I can fall asleep as soon as I get in a prone position. I will be so glad
to have some stamina back.
The good news is that I only have one more whole breast
radiation treatment!
♫One More Rad!
I never thought that
I would see the day,
That they would finally take the burn away.
This radiation
that they send
Will now come to a freaking end♫
Sorry, Les Miz. After
the last whole breast tomorrow, I will have six boosts which will be delivered
directly to the tumor bed, and for which, I do not have to have my arms above
my head! Furthermore, my technicians have promised me I will be out in about 5
minutes!
Once radiation is complete, I will meet with my medical
oncologist to set me up for hormonal therapy for the next 5-10 years. That plus
follow-ups will be in my future, but the major treatments (surgery, chemo,
radiation) will be over!
Hopefully, I will be more timely with my additions to this
blog as the rad fatigue begins to wear off, and old Suzanne (no, I mean REALLY OLD) comes back!
