Is this thing on? Is anyone still there? I wouldn’t be surprised if I was speaking to myself after leaving for 2+ months, but I just couldn’t talk about myself or my cancer any more. But, since today is Father’s Day and my Dad has been asking me to write, it’s a little gift to him, and to myself.
A quick and dirty update before I get into a long-winded update on my experience. I finished radiation and have my next set of scans on July 12th. The oncologist is happy with how things look on the surface…and we’ll know what, if anything, lurks below by mid-July.
Now for my unexpected insights into radiation. Radiation was much harder than I expected. It wasn’t nearly as physically as demanding as chemo, but mentally it really knocked me on my butt.
A quick reminder: during chemo, I was at the oncologist’s office every Monday, on short days for an hour and on long days for 5 hours or so. The long days were every three weeks, and those treatments were the cocktail that left me fuzzy for a week. The short ones were the Herceptin and later Herceptin and Zometa. That once weekly appointment seemed to work well for me. I was in the office often enough to have some sense of security with my treatment, but I was also able to almost forget that I was going through treatment during the second and third weeks of the schedule.
Radiation is much different. I was at the doctor’s office every day, Monday through Friday at 9:30. The staff was wonderful, and I looked forward to seeing all my girls in the office. It was short, usually. On the days when the machine was working properly, I was in and out in 15 minutes, if necessary. Truth be told, usually I was there longer because I tend to talk and visit and bring cupcakes and such. However, the actual treatment was fast.
But it was EVERY. STINKING. DAY. And there is no way to forget that cancer infiltrates every tiny inch of your life when you wake up each day and head into another treatment. There was no escaping the reality that my time, daily and long-term, is dictated by these tiny, rampaging, rogue cells that are trying to kill me.
I felt so untethered that first Friday that I woke up and didn’t have to drive to St. Joe’s. We had left for Savannah on the Thursday afternoon of my last treatment, and waking up 300 miles away drove that freedom home. I didn’t have to spend an hour on GA 400 headed south in morning rush hour traffic. I didn’t have to get into that damned robe. I didn’t have to lie still and count out the 308 seconds that I heard the machine whine.
And I didn’t have to talk-or write-about my cancer.
I hope that you understand my need to have some space. If you don’t, I certainly appreciate you taking the time to follow my journey up to now. Moving forward, my goal is to update at least once a week.
Next up will probably be all about the actual radiation treatment experience. Feel free to leave questions in the comments section and I will do my best to answer.
My Name is Not Cancer Girl 