I originally planned to have radiation started by mid September. With my post Labor Day ER visit (Hey! Staph infection!), I had one surgery incision opened up. Now without stitches and with my body likely not at full I-can-heal-open-wounds force, radiation has experienced quite a few delays. At the first staging appointment, I couldn't get my arm behind my head to hold onto two pegs that help with positioning (a post-lumpectomy issue that is now resolved). One month and about two weeks later, I finally weas able to get through the radiation staging appointment today.
There are many losses on this cancer journey. Some may be permanent, or not. For now, I still have not restarted my period. I still get hot flashes, and there is no way to know how my fertility has been impacted, or, if I will never regain my period and will be, essentially, in a chemo-caused menopause at age 35.
Radiation has brought up two losses. My right breast, which will be radiated, likely will never be able to breastfeed. That loss makes me sad. I didn't know this would happen until I met with my radiologist, Dr. Cupino. That still assumes I would be able to have children and breastfeed. I don't yet know the weight of this change.
I am surprised by the second "loss." I will get three tattoos--one on each side of my chest, and one in the middle of my breast bone. These dots will line me up the same way for each radiation treatment.
So today, I finally went back to the oncology radiation clinic to get "staged" for radiation. I changed into the gown. Dr. Cupino looked at my healing incision (it's now about as wide as my pinky finger nail, and no longer deep) and said I was ready to begin. Before he left the room, I asked if I could talk to him.
I've been really struggling cognitively with cancer treatment. At each infusion, my nurse double gloves and puts on a PPE cover gown. Chemo comes in bags labelled toxic. Then, I get radiation. But chemo can cause secondary cancers. So can radiation. Why is the cure a killer? Why does the cure create a new percentage of a chance of another cancer?
Cognitively, I have reached a place where I question if radiation is fully necessary. My lumpectomy pathology came back with a "complete pathological response." Time and time again, I have heard, "Oh, you are young. We are going to hit it hard." I know the US is more aggressive in cancer treatment than Canada and Europe.
And, at the same time, I have also wanted to beat the shit out of cancer with the most aggressive treatments possible. One and done-; no reoccurrence for me. During chemo, I didn't question chemo. I didn't want it, but I reminded myself, that I do get to choose to do chemo. So I can hate it and still walk toward it, grateful that I am able to fight.
So with radiation, I am no longer in a stage where I mentally can imagine my cancer growing. Cells spilling and crawling to new parts of my body. That work, I feel, is done. Radiation is another way to beat down reoccurrence. But, it took me time to see that today.
So I asked Dr. Cupino, who always wears great shoes (deep brown leather today), if he could help me understand why this is necessary, because cognitively, I am struggling. As always, he stopped and gave me his full attention. He said that it could cause secondary cancers, but that the risk is minimal, and the risk is worth taking because of the outcomes. Concerning reoccurrence, radiation has positive impacts that reach beyond the five years I am usually given for projections. For decades, it will help protect against reoccurrence.
Okay. Okay. I can do this. So a woman named Lora led me into the room for a CT. I laid on my back and they worked to align me for the scan and future radiation appointments. I placed my hands behind my head and held onto the two handles. They adjusted the headrest and used laser lights to place where permanent marker dots would go on my body.
The CT was much calmer than an MRI. There were no loud motor sounds or cool fan rushing. Before they moved me back for the scan, I started to think about the three tattoos I would always see. Another scar or mark of cancer. I just didn't want them. I didn't want to be here, doing this, getting staged to be radiated.
Lora asked if I was ready, and I said an emotional "yes." I cried quietly. The machine moved me back for the scan. I worked to steady my breath. I always think about how pre-COVID and pre-masking, it would be easier to catch your breath in an oncology appointment.
Quite quickly, the scan was done. So easy. Not stressful in any sensory way. Smooth white surfaces and distant red lights.
Lora said they were now going to get the supplies for the tattoos. I asked then if I could avoid getting them. Could permanent marker suffice? I'd shower less and be careful.
She paused, and said she was glad I asked, and she'd step out to ask Dr. Cupino. She came back in, and thanked me again for asking. She said that we could use tap and small metal markers instead of tattoos. I knew the idea of three new cancer-related dots was upsetting me, but I didn't realize how much until I got into the clinic. I am grateful I now just have three taped on dots I need to keep on through radiation treatment.
And that was it. A radiation tech, whose name I think was Jeannie or Janie (I was stressed and didn't easily hold onto names), stepped back in and said Dr. Cupino would have me start Thursday, in two days. I'll have my first radiation treatment in two days at 8:15 a.m.
I asked if I could see the radiation room. Jeannie said she would check if no patient was in and there wasn't. She led me back. It's a large open room with clean white and comfortable light. In the middle is the machine where I will lay. She showed me how the table/bed moves back.
I thanked her, and then walked out to the parking lot. I got in my car, opened the windows to the cool autumn air, and rested my head on the steering wheel. Again, I need to set my mentality. I want to know I choose radiation. Nothing is happening to me; I choose.
So, I am paralleling radiation like an extra set of sprints when I am thirsty and it is hot and dry out. I don't want to do them, but I know that if I ever need to compete again in a cancer world, I'll think of these radiation treatments, and know there was nothing else I could have done. I am fighting to give myself mental peace in the coming months and years.
And when dreams or thoughts of reoccurrence surface, I am going to think of these final radiation "sprints" I did with this radiation team. And use these memories like a bat that I will beat the shit out of reoccurrence with. And that makes me smile. I am nervous, but I think I can walk into radiation treatments now.
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