in the beginning was denial now, radiation, my cancer story part6

Once the incision was healed I went for my first visit with the Oncologist. I liked him just as much as I like my surgeon. He had this wonderful sense of humor about him, but also this self assurance showing that he know what he was doing. I spoke with him about the radiation and still not knowing whether I was going to need chemotherapy. I was shown the dressing area and where my card would be for checking in. I also was told when my treatments would begin. It was put off a couple of weeks while we waiting on word about the chemo.




A visit with my surgeon had her calling the Oncologist and they decided I didn't need to wait on the decision about chemo, my radiation treatments could begin.



They had to tattoo the area. Little blue dots that would be used to line up the machine. By now I should be getting used to being poked and prodded and handled but I'm not. As a person who was and is very self-conscious it was a necessary embarrassment. I just look away and pretend to be somewhere else.



The Cancer Center is only a few minutes from where I work. I managed to get my appointments scheduled for 4pm. It was the latest time they had available. I made arrangements at work to come in fifteen minutes early so I could leave fifteen minutes early and not lose any time. I just had to hope and pray that traffic wasn't a problem between the plant and the center. Only once did I run into a problem and that was when there was a funeral coming out from one of the local churches.



My first treatment was an eye opener. I went in, signed in and walked back tot he dressing room. Stripping to the waist I donned a robe, locked my things in the locker and went to wait in- the waiting area. It was rare for anyone else to be there at the same time. There was a young lady who appeared to be in her teens that was before me, but she was generally being called as I was arriving. When my name was called I was lead back to one of the two radiation rooms. The machine that was going to do my treatments was this huge futuristic looking device that I quickly tagged 'The Monster". I was helped into place on the table and the area to be treated was bared. Once again I mentally wandered off to somewhere else. The treatments don't last long at all. I spent more time getting ready for and getting dressed afterward.



I asked all the same silly questions. 'would I now glow in the dark? Would I set off Geiger counters? Could I heat microwave meals by holding them?" They smiled and sent me on my way. One down-30 something to go.



I am a chocoholic and a junk food junkie. Now recovering. I say that because it didn't take long to learn that I couldn't eat the foods I once did with the processed sugars. Coffee dropped off my diet as well. All the things it seemed that I loved, I couldn't tolerate. That sugar rush one gets from those candy bars or donuts? Sent me crashing down to zero energy. The radiation was sapping everything I had energy wise and eating the junk only made it worse. My diet quickly adapted to fruits, vegetables and water, lots of water. There were days when I felt as if I could not put one foot in front of the other. It was a sheer battle of will to move. At times I would have to stop and hold onto something to keep from sinking to the floor in exhaustion. At times I wished that I could just go to bed and sleep for days, maybe I could regain something that way. But I knew that was impossible for many reasons. One, I had to work, I had to go for the treatments and I still had to help my husband find work. So I would get up each morning, go in to work and struggle to get through. I kept my breaks short out of fear of sitting down and not getting back up. I don't know how many times I dozed off while I was waiting for my treatment. Thankfully I would hear my name when called at least I think so. No one ever said anything about having to call me more than once.



At work the plant manager would walk through the department nearly every day- he always would stop me and ask how I was doing. I would smile and say fine and he'd move on. I knew he didn't believe me, but he didn't push it. As long as I didn't fall over into a machine everything was fine.



Slowly I was adapting to this new lifestyle..I wasn't really liking it, part of me missed chocolate and Krispy Kreme donuts..but I knew I had to stand strong and deal with it. All the while I was writing about my experiences and receiving cards, letters and messages of encouragement. I would get through this-it was just another adventure of life--

































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