Today, I'm half-way through my radiation treatments. Ten down, ten to go.
Yep, you read that correctly. This "I'm Cancer Free" celebrator discovered, that while there is not detectable cancer seen on my MRI or from surgery I get to enjoy 20 rounds of radiation. Just to make sure.
I wasn't buying it initially. I talked with the radiation doc, my medical oncologist, my surgeon, my nurse practitioner, another Triple negative survivor, my hubby, my sister, my manager and even my dog. The closest I got was that I know myself best but the docs know cancer.
Even Wally, that lovable pup, wasn't buying it. His silence was traitorous.
So, I reluctantly began with visions of Chernobyl sugar plums dancing in my head. Interestingly enough, as I began my hubby was just ending his radiation treatment for prostate cancer. No one could accuse us of not knowing how to live???? We radiate.
The zap sessions, as I like to call them, are quick enough. The prep, however, is the time consumer as I get geared up for less than 5 minutes of radiation. The first step is to put on on an attractive hospital gown backwards. I then lay on a custom mold on the table and the staff adjusts it to fit perfectly. A breathing apparatus is put in my mouth, a clip on my nose and I put on glasses that show a video screen that guides me to breathe at certain times and to hold my breathe for others. Once it's all set, the techs leave the room and the radiation begins. Surreal.
Only ten more to go!
Yep, you read that correctly. This "I'm Cancer Free" celebrator discovered, that while there is not detectable cancer seen on my MRI or from surgery I get to enjoy 20 rounds of radiation. Just to make sure.
I wasn't buying it initially. I talked with the radiation doc, my medical oncologist, my surgeon, my nurse practitioner, another Triple negative survivor, my hubby, my sister, my manager and even my dog. The closest I got was that I know myself best but the docs know cancer.
Even Wally, that lovable pup, wasn't buying it. His silence was traitorous.
So, I reluctantly began with visions of Chernobyl sugar plums dancing in my head. Interestingly enough, as I began my hubby was just ending his radiation treatment for prostate cancer. No one could accuse us of not knowing how to live???? We radiate.
The zap sessions, as I like to call them, are quick enough. The prep, however, is the time consumer as I get geared up for less than 5 minutes of radiation. The first step is to put on on an attractive hospital gown backwards. I then lay on a custom mold on the table and the staff adjusts it to fit perfectly. A breathing apparatus is put in my mouth, a clip on my nose and I put on glasses that show a video screen that guides me to breathe at certain times and to hold my breathe for others. Once it's all set, the techs leave the room and the radiation begins. Surreal.
Only ten more to go!
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