Day 4 in the bag, 1 more day to go and week 1 of 6 will be complete. I am still feeling some major anxiety over all this and I am not sure why, what is at the root of this general feeling of unease.
As I said previously, the Radiation Oncology center runs a tight ship, they call you back almost as soon as you are checked in by the nurse at the front desk. They call your name over the intercom and invite you to come back. I walk through the double doors that remain wide open and turn left down the hall. As I enter this hall, it just seems to grow longer. The changing rooms with the waiting for treatment room are at the end of the hall before you actually enter the treatment area.
As I walk this hallway every day this week, passing empty exam rooms on the left and right, my dragon starts to unfurl its wings and ruffle them before folding them up again. My dragon rustles its wings, and uncurls his body a little bit from the tight little ball it usually remains in, hiding in my gut. He makes his presence known as I walk that hall, as it seems to grow longer with each passing step. Eventually, I make it to the little waiting room with 5 chairs waiting for someone to sit in them. Yesterday there were two men dressed in the “gown”, waiting to be called back for treatment. Today, it was empty.
There are two changing rooms at the back of the lobby. Both are small, cramped areas with a little bench between the front wall and the little closet that has shelves of clean folded gowns to pick out and don. Also in this tiny room is a bin to discard your used gown for cleaning. Above the little bench is a mirror. Once you have removed the required clothing and donned the gown, you carry your belongings with you. Hence why I bring my own, proven waterproof, tote.
After donning the gown, I take a seat in one of those 5 chairs in the waiting room. The waiting time there has differed everyday so far, from seconds to a couple of minutes. Again, you name is called over the intercom system to come on back into treatment. As you enter the treatment area, which is different from the mapping area, there is a scale and a chair. You can set your belongings on the chair. The first day I had to step on that scale. I told Art and Terri that was not fair, I was not told there was going to be a test.
I step up to the table that is attached to the machine, pull my right arm from the sleeve of the gown and lay down with my head in the little pocket to hold it in place and raise my arms up to the pegs to hold me in the right position. One of the techs will ask me if I need a warm blanket. Some days the temperature is fine, twice this week it has felt cold, and I need that blanket to help keep me comfortable once I have to bare the breast.
Yesterday I put on a temporary tattoo of a banana. They are naturally radioactive. Art and Terri got me set up, and asked me where I get these stickers. I explained again, that you can purchase temporary tattoo paper for your printer, and then I find the pictures through a search with my browser.
The actual treatment only takes a few seconds for each “zap”. Art or Terri comes along and pulls the corner of my gown down to bare my breast and they circle my little dots so they can see them better once they turn out the lights. They do this so they can see the laser beamed grid that is projected on my breast from the laser system set up in the ceiling. Once they have me all lined up, with my tattoos situated within the correct grid section based on what the days treatment regime calls for, they turn the lights back on and tell me to hold still. Then they go into the control room and program the machine to do its magic, shoot a narrow beam of radiation through my breast tissue. I can tell when the machine is doing it’s trick, it beeps while it does this – about 5 seconds of beeping and the first beaming of killing rays is done. About 10 seconds later, it starts again, for the second firing in that direction.
Once the second firing of radioactive particles is done from the left side, the machine rotates over me to position itself for the zapping from the right side. There is a glass plate over the opening where the particle beam is shot from that reflects part of my bared breast and the green lines from the laser that are projected onto my body. I can see the bottom of my breast as the arm rotates towards my right. I can see the little bulge of the third boob, and then the arm with the glass plate is beyond my peripheral vision. I can no longer see the opening of the machine where the high-energy cancer cell-destroying beam of radiation is emitted.
I lie there trying to breathe normally, trying not to twitch or flinch as I hear the beeping start up again, hear the inner workings if the linear accelerator. I can imagine the beam of energy passing through my breast, slowly breaking the DNA in my cells so that any cancer that has been left behind will not be able to duplicate itself. Maybe this is where my anxiety is stemming from, as all cells in the breast tissue are effected, not just any stray cancer cell. Will this lead to a new cancer somewhere else in my body? Hence, today I wore a tattoo that questioned whether or not my treatments cure cancer or cause it… 
Yesterday was also doctor check in day. Once Art and Terri were done with me Evan met me at the entry to treatment room and took me to one of the empty exam rooms. He told me to wait there for Dr. Simko, and once I was done with my check in with him, I could change there.
Dr. Simko came in and even though we had met on Monday (when I could not see his face because he always stood outside of my peripheral vision while I was already positioned on the table), and we talked about my treatment, Dr. Endicott, who is my normal Radiation Oncologist, and where she is vacationing. I asked him if he knew if she had gone somewhere or was she just taking the time off and staying local to unwind. He told me she was staying at a cabin they have north of Toronto. Since I am familiar with the area, I asked questions. He seemed to remember the name Lake Couchiching, which is in Orillia, where we have friends and have visited numerous times. He asked me if we were Canadian. Not yet…. (Not ruling that out as a possibility in the future).
He asked me how I felt about radiation. I told him I am having anxiety about it, and not sure why. I told him how now every little twitch, twinge, and ache has me jumpy. I don’t know why. I don’t think my cancer is coming back. I don’t know why this has me jumpy. When I was undressing Tuesday night, I swore I could see a pink tinge radiating out from my areola. I told myself to get out of my head, I’m imagining things. I don’t know why I am so distressed over the effects of radiation. They heal, it may get uncomfortable, but so was chemo, and I didn’t have nearly the amount of anxiety over that treatment as I do with this one.
Dr. Simko told me I needed to relax, don’t let this get to me. If I knew why I was feeling so stressed, don’t you think I would get over it? That was all he did, all he checked on with me, how I was doing emotionally. I know I’m overanxious about all this; I am working on dealing with it, so telling me to get over it is not helpful. He did say that if it lingers I should think about seeing a psychiatrist. If none of my meditation, writing, support group sharing or talking with Robert doesn’t help, then of course, I will seek out additional help. I know there are tools out there, and I will escalate the use of different tools as necessary. Again, not helpful. Men…
Tuesday night Maryka was nice enough of let me know she too experienced this type of anxiety during radiation, and it went away when she was done. She still does not know why she was so uptight during the course of her radiation therapy. This helped, as I don’t feel so different and odd in my unknown angst.
I had a massage this morning as well. I visualized all my brown, grey, yellow and orange anxiety being removed from my body by Janel’s skilled hands as she worked the knots from my neck and shoulders. I imagined she pushed all those stress laden colors out through my pores and each exhale of my breath; and with each inhale pink, green, gold and white replaced the color void left behind in my cells.
Tonight is Paint Night with Heather. We’ve only had to reschedule this four times. I am looking forward to this. Will let you know how it goes. The picture offered for tonight’s class is Koi fish.
Life is breathing out the bad, taking in the good