I'm Not Sure Now Is Any Better
Six weeks have passed from the time when I last touched base, and since then, I’m steadily regaining my footing. Side effects from chemo are almost behind me – my digestive tract is in much better shape; nausea is a thing of the past, and my hair and fingernails are growing out. All in all, my body feels more like my own and less at the mercy of those wretched chemotherapy drugs!
With little time for a reprieve, however, I was thrust into my next leg of cancer treatment: radiation therapy. To my surprise, gearing up for radiation was almost more anxiety producing than grinding through surgery and chemotherapy.
I was relieved to know that I wasn’t the only person who felt this way. In my first couple of days in the women’s waiting room of radiation oncology, I overheard another woman expressing her anxiety about radiation. She mentioned that she wasn’t as nervous about chemo or surgery as she was about radiation. And to further give credibility to my feelings, it was only during radiation therapy that I was asked to be a part of a research study on the effects of radiation on stress levels.
Maybe the heightened sense of stress comes from knowing I wouldn’t feel radiation; I wouldn’t see it, smell it or taste it. I have a number of intersecting red and blue permanent magic marker lines drawn on the right side of my chest with strict instructions to keep those lines intact as best as possible (translation – no soap, lotion, scrubbing, etc. on this section of my body for six weeks).
Stress could also be associated with the sort of sci-fi ambiance of the treatment room. Upon first entering the room, I can’t help but get the chills. The temperature hovers in the 60’s because the big machine that delivers the radiation needs to stay cool. There’s a lone metal table underneath an arm that extends from the machine and green laser lights criss-cross the room from the ceiling and walls. Once positioned in a “cradle” made just for me, I am reminded to remain still while my radiation therapists exit the room and close the six-inch metal door behind them. I am reassured, however, that if I need anything, I can be seen and heard by a camera and intercom that hangs from the ceiling. Instead of talking to my therapists on the “other side,” I choose to listen to the jam box sitting on the counter nearby that is either emitting tunes from the disco era or those that ring in the holiday season.
After every couple of buzzes (I get nine “buzzes” at each visit), my therapists return to my side to change the position of the machine because a number of sites are “zapped” with either electron beams (to the lymph nodes between my breasts & the nodes on the right side of my neck) or photon beams (to the tumor bed). The entire session lasts between 15 (just radiation) and 30 minutes (every fifth treatment day I also have a series of x-rays taken).
Initially, the stress I felt came about, I think, because of the newness and intangibility of the treatment, but now that I’m more than half way through, the treatment has become routine and slightly tedious. I make my way down to MDAnderson every Monday – Friday (with the exception of Thanksgiving, Christmas Day and New Year’s Day). Time, as a result, is moving very quickly, and I oftentimes struggle to keep up. Given this pace, I have a good deal of energy for about eight to ten hours, but when early evening hits, I’m lucky to be coherent. My days seem to fall through my fingers, and I am often left feeling like I have accomplished less than I would have liked.
I am encouraged, though, because January 3rd, 2008 (my last day of radiation) is right around the corner. Soon this part of my cancer journey will be behind me, and I will be focused on what the new year will have in store for me.
Love, Lisa
-MESSAGES-
missed you Sorry this was so stressful and I think most of us can understand the fear of radiation if not your particular reason for it. Think getting x-rayed while at the dentist who aims right between your eyes or on on your forehead. I always think that I will feel the rays penetrating but of course I don't. Still and all it gives me the willies.
January is so close and I speak for all of us who wish you a better New Year than what has past. I hope that in some way, when this is over, that you will continue to keep a journal if only for yourself because you express yourself so well and we feel honored to have had the inside scoop. One is often at a loss in communicating with someone who is ill and you have walked us through it step by step and made it easy and open. Sometimes I feel that we are just about sitting on your lap sharing your discomfort, pain and hope. I, for one, would have gladly given you my hair although I'm not sure that you are ready for silver just yet. T. and I send you much love and fond hopes for the New Year. You are in our thoughts and your courage ennobles those close to you. You will reign! L.
Glad you are slogging through successfully and patiently Lisa, you don't know me but I am a friend of your mother-in-law, Prue. She told me about your page, and your cancer a couple of months ago. So I've been following your pages and reading them each time there is an update. You are on my prayer list and I see you've made major steps forward in terms of dealing with this ordeal. Good for you! God bless you. . . I know you are doing better all the time. I can tell by your posts. So Go Girl!!!!!
Hugs, A Stranger that cares, C.
Here is to January 3 N. and I were delighted to hear that treatment is mostly done and life is normalizing. You have been very courageous. Love to Nat and Ethan.
January 3rd will have new meaning for all of us Dear Lisa--So glad to find the update this morning as we have been thinking about you and Nat. So glad that you are on the mend from chemo and almost done with the radiation. We pray for a happy and healthy New Year for you, Nat and Ethan. Love, A. A. and U. J.
YIPPEE! Thanks for the update. We've been waiting....
Even though I work with Lisa and see her everyday, I appreciate her insight in her writing. She's looking great and handling her situation as gracefully as a person could.
GOTTA LOVE THE LISA!
Almost there You're almost there. That is so wonderful. I also know how it can feel that though almost there, there is still a lot left. Know that you will be in our prayers and we're all cheering for you.
Gosh, it is so good to hear from you! Believe it or not, I have been thinking about you a lot lately. But alas, I am lazy by nature and failed to act on contacting you. It is very exciting to think that you will be finishing this part of your cancer journey soon. Hopefully you showed those bastard cells who's boss, and they will know better than bother you again! You continue inspire and amaze me. I am so fortunate that you are in my life!
Think of the upside! With that many radiation treatments, you are pretty much guaranteed to develop some kind of superpower! To make sure, you might want to sneak a spider or something else cool in with you next time.
I hope you, Nat and E. all have a great time over the holidays. G.
Best wishes for many healthy New Year's to come! I told Prue that we missed hearing from you so I was delighted to receive your latest news. We hope that January will fly by and that after your last radiation treatment you will be able to look forward to many wonderful, healthy and productive years--and come back to Ann Arbor to see us! Love to Nat, too. S. C.