Yay for Johnae!

Johnae got the all clear on Thursday!  To say she was relieved would be a major understatement.  I'm willing to bet she never blows her mammo off again.  Hugs, Johnae!  I'm glad you got good news. 

One Down, Six to Go....

Today was my fifth radiation treatment, bringing to close the first week of my seven week treatment plan. I have the routine down pretty well now.  It's been so far, so good with the treatments.  My skin shows no sign of damage yet.  I have some weird discomfort when I reach with my left arm, but that could still be nerve trauma from the surgery.  Dr C told me it could be up to six months until that goes away completely.  At any rate, it is more "bothersome" than painful.

This week, I had meetings with the radiation oncologist, the oncologist's nurse, and someone called a "cancer guide" who gave me information on the holistic services offered at the cancer center.  Some of the programs sound like fun: a monthly meeting of patients and surviors, healing touch therapy, and even acupuncture.  The problem is, many of the programs are offered during my working hours, and my office isn't close to the clinic.  If I want to attend these offerings, I will need to use vacation time to do it.  I took the pamphlets, but I'll make my mind up later.

Yesterday, my wonderful friend Johnae got the dreaded "call back" on her mammogram.  Our local clinic sends a letter if all is well.  The call means there is "something" on your films.  Not every "something" turns out to be cancer, and the clinic asked Johnae to come in next week for a follow up.  With me, they wanted my butt (well, they actually wanted my boob, but I digress) in there at 8 o'clock the next morning.  So to me, telling Johnae to come next week is a good sign.  She didn't want to wait (of course!) and asked to be put on a cancellation list.  They must have heard her anxiety because they told her to come tomorrow, early, and prepare to wait.  They will work her in at some point during the day. Johnae credits my cancer with prodding her into her mammogram.  She was two years out from her last one.  Hopefully, she'll have an all clear by lunchtime tomorrow.  If not, well, we can travel this journey together.  If you're a praying sort, please think of Johnae.  Otherwise, we appreciate the powers rabbits feet, four leaf clovers, horse shoes, and crossed fingers, too.

Radiation Therapy

Finally, I've started radiation treatments.  Wahoo!  Okay, it's not exactly a party but it isn't bad.  The treatments only take about ten minutes and the techs are fun to work with.  If you can get past being topless in front of a bunch of people, it's not a big deal.  I'm long over the whole topless thing.  I lost my last shred of dignity when I had to spend two full days naked, with a catheter hanging out of me, in a glass walled room full of people at Mayo when I had treatment for a uterine fibroid.  I think there were twelve people coming and going through that one.  Nothing much embarrasses me any more.

Each week day I go into the cancer center, change into a gown, and wait to be taken to the treatment room.  It's pretty much like the sim:  gown comes off, lay on the table, feet strapped together, bumper under the knees, arms up overhead and held still by my custom bean bag pillow thing. A couple of techs line up my tattoos and leave the room, then I start doing gated breathing and the radiation thingie zaps at my chest.  Turns out I'm really good at gated breathing.  The techs kept telling me I was the best gated breather they've ever had, and I was all proud of myself, but then I found out that the breath monitor is a brand new piece of equipment at the cancer center so only a couple of us have used it.  Still, I asked for a banner and a crown.  Hey, a title is a title.  It's not often I'm declared the best of something.

After my first treatment, I got dressed and headed out to the front desk.  As I passed through the waiting room I was surprised to see my mom sitting at a table working a jig saw puzzle.  She was all settled in with a cup of coffee and a muffin like this was just another part of her routine.  I had told her that she was welcome to come to the cancer center anytime, but I am able to drive myself so I really didn't expect her to come.  She brought me a snack size Butterfinger candy bar.  I love my mom.  She was there the next day, too.  With another Butterfinger.  After my treatment I sat down with her, and we finished the jig saw puzzle together.

Shooting the Moon

 Working nights, I often come home to beautiful night skies.  For months now, I've wanted to learn to photograph the night sky, but my old camera just didn't have the capability to get good night shots. One of the first things I tried with my new camera was shooting the moon.  Clearly, I would need a tripod if I wanted to continue to get night shots.  Here is my first attempt:

It occurred to me that I could try steadying the camera on something, so I leaned my elbows against the car and tried again.  Still not a great shot, but there was some improvement.

Finally, I rested the camera on the roof of my car and hit the shutter button.  It took a couple tries to actually get the moon in the shot, but eventually I did it.  I still think a tripod is in order, but I was encouraged enough to stay outside practicing until my fingers got too numb to handle the camera.  Here was my last attempt.  I love the way the branches of this locust tree look when they're bare.

Wishes

Happy Birthday to my biggest sissy!  See, isn't this much better than the old days, when you had to listen to me sing to you?  Hope you have a great day!

Heavy Dew

Here's a drippy post for Watery Wednesday.  This was taken as the sun came up, after a particularly dewy night.

To view other Watery Wednesday posts, click here.

The Sim

On Monday I went to the Cancer Center for a "sim", or simulation, to get set up for radiation treatments.  The procedure is simple, at least from the patient perspective, but lengthy: first, I had get photographed.  The tech, Kristin, told me they take head shots so that the Cancer Center staff can be familiar with the patients when they come in. Next, I was taken to a dressing room to change from my shirt into a hospital gown, (I was able to keep my jeans and shoes on), then I was off to a large room with a CT scanner.  Kristin had me remove my gown and lay on a table with a bumper under my knees.  She wrapped a band around my feet to keep me from crossing my ankles during the procedure.  Then, she fitted a pillow sized bean bag under my head and shoulders while I lay with my arms over my head.  Kristin used a vacuum to suck all the air out of the bean bag, which formed the pillow to my body position.  The radiologists will use this pillow to ensure I'm in the same position each time I have a treatment.

Next, Kristin made some marks on my chest with a Crayola marker.  She added some funky stickers and wire thingies, then the radiologist came in and doodled a bit more.  As they moved around I closed my eyes, focusing on my breathing and trying to stay calm.  When I opened my eyes Kristin was gone and a young guy was standing there.  He introduced himself as Charlie, and then Kristin came back and they sent me into the CT scanner.

The scans themselves were very brief, maybe five minutes all together.  Charlie told me they took two quick scans and one long one.  I only noticed the machine moving twice.  I wasn't supposed to move at all, but I could see out the back of the scanner while I was in there - much better than an MRI.  After the first set of scans Kristin and Charlie and another woman put a band around my ribs with a small light board attached.  The lights hung over my head and measured my breathing as I was scanned again.  There were two red lights in the middle and a strip of green lights going out from the top and bottom of the red lights.  The goal is to take a deep breath, making the red lights come on, then, while holding the deep breath, take shallow breaths while the scanner took another set of pictures.  You want to keep the breaths shallow enough that the green lights don't turn on.  I've been practicing, and I had a couple breaths that never went to the green, but I had a hard time maintaining that as the scan progressed.  They said I did well, and that it would get easier as I progressed through the treatment.

After the CT scans, Charlie pulled off all the stickers and gave me a set of four tiny blue tattoos.  The radiologist will use the tattoos to line up my body for each treatment.  Each tattoo was just one needle stick, and except for the top one, right between the girls, I probably won't notice them.  The one between the girls is high enough to be clearly visible above my shirt.  If it bothers me, meh, I have some great concealer.  It's a small price to pay to (hopefully) cure me of cancer.

After Charlie finished his graffiti, I got dressed and took a tour of the radiation treatment area.  Charlie and I  sat down and went over the side effects while Kristin scheduled my entire course of thirty three treatments.  All told, my appointment was just under two hours.  The treatments will start in a couple days.  Each treatment will be ten to fifteen minutes, and I'll have to come into the Cancer Center each weekday.  If all goes well, I'll take my last treatment just before Christmas.

I have very sensitive skin, which could cause some trouble down the line.  When Charlie removed the boob stickers, I warned him that I would probably have welts.  Still, when he saw the bright red, raised marks, he commented on them.  I think his exact words were, "Wow, that is not good!"  Radiation can cause the skin to burn, peel, and blister.  Charlie gave me some cream to get started with, in hopes of preventing or at least minimizing the skin damage.  I've added aloe vera and hydro cortisone cream to my shopping list. I've also been advised to give up deodorant on the left side for the duration of the treatment, and to use Ivory or Dove soap in the shower.  I guess I'm lucky that I'm taking treatment during cold weather.  My co workers are even luckier, LOL. I Haven't told them about the no deodorant policy.  I will miss my Philosophy shower gel, but I have a bottle of their Bubbly lined up for when this is all over - it smells like champagne.

I'm glad the simulation is behind me.  Now all I have to do is wait.