Back to Reality

That was quick.  Reality up and smacked me in the head today.  

After landing in Boston in the snow storm on Sunday night, Monday was all about groceries and unpacking and laundry.  Tuesday?  Tuesday was all about radiation.  I had my 'simulation' today - a practice run before the real deal tomorrow.  A few takeaways.

a.  It was not fun nor will it be fun.  At least in chemo, there were some light and funny moments.  I had my own space and it was shiny and new.  Not so with radiation.  The radiation room, in the depths of the basement in a building next to Newton Wellesley Hospital, was thick, airless and quite frankly, soulless.  After I am 'arranged' on the table, arms over my head and completely exposed, everyone leaves the room.  There are no windows.  The 4 people who 'arranged' me watch me on monitors from 4 cameras mounted in the room.  The door is heavy and clicks ominously.  The machine whirls around me as I aim to be 'dead weight' (the humor is dark too) and hold my breath for increasingly longer times as my lungs endeavor to push my heart out of the way of the radiation rays.  My only comfort is that a red light will see if I cannot hold the breath and will turn off the radiation if I waver.  The red light is covering my entire body so I have a washcloth over my eyes as to avoid its bright glare.  Trying to 'relax' is an effort.

b. Common side effects are few but can be interesting.  Fatigue, of course, but apparently if I had it with chemo, I won't have it as badly with radiation.  Burning and skin problems either happen or don't.  I'll be moisturizing 3+ times a day to avoid what I can, but it is what it is.  Some burn; others don't.  Apparently, the 'exit rays' will be heading out of the back of my left shoulder and pass directly through the incision where the cyst was.   And everything is cumulative; I've read enough to know that the rubber hits the road on week 3 of radiation.  

c.  The interior waiting room is bullshit.  Non-radiated people get to wait in the nicer, exterior waiting room.  I, with my pass card, get to head straight into the claustrophobic changing and waiting room to put on my 1/2 robe. Oh, and it's co-ed so I found myself next to an elderly man today with his robe open.  So fun; very comfortable.  I also found myself between 2 women, mother and daughter, both older than me, who would not stop talking over me.  The waiting room is about 6' by 6' big.  Other than tomorrow, I have an early morning time slot - maybe that will help?

My friend in Maine told me that I "had to be my own shining light in radiation".  That's going to be a tough one for sure.  People say radiation is 'easy'.  The actual procedure might be, and I'm hoping the side effects are a fraction of what chemo did to me.  But it is NOT something I'm ever going to look forward to.

In addition to my 4:00pm radiation tomorrow, I have another Herceptin and Perjeta infusion in the morning after a meeting with my medical oncology team.  Time to ask the hard questions - What's the chance of recurrence in 5 years? 10 years?  What's my survival rate for 10 years (I know the 5 year)?  When will my eyesight come back?  What drug will I be on after radiation for 5 to 10 years?

As much as I would like to marinate in the glow of Carmel (and don't worry, I think of it often), it's time for the next chapter of this journey.  20 sessions.  LFG.  xo J

PS - I'm 4 weeks PFC today and I feel great.  Like 80% of my normal self.  Maybe 85%. 

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