Claustrophobic’s Nightmare

Last week I was prepped for my radiation treatments at the Huntsman Cancer Institute at the University of Utah. The first step was having a mask made that covers my head, neck, and shoulders. The mask attaches to the table I lay on, much like having a CT scan or MRI. It keeps my head from moving and aligns my body in the same position for treatment. It also hyper-extends my neck to keep as much of my throat out of the field of radiation as possible, and my shoulders pressed back. The mask is made by placing a warm, wet, pliable plastic mesh over my face, and then it’s secured to the table. It shrinks as it dries, becomes tight, and conforms to my face. The longer you can lay there to let it dry, the better fit it creates. This took about 30 minutes.

It was so tight I could not open my eyelids and as you can see in the photo, it left indentations on my skin. I had to tell myself, “Just keep breathing.”

After the mask was dry enough to remove, I had 3 permanent markings (tattoos) placed on my body, they are used for alignment too. They are small dots that look like a mole or a freckle. It was not painful getting them, but the 2 on either side of my ribcage tickled and that was hard to sit through without flinching.

Wednesday of this week I had my simulation or dry-run for treatment. The therapist made sure the mask fit and everything was aligned where it should be. Then a series of X-rays were taken. All systems go.

Yesterday was my first of 20 treatments. After changing into a flattering hospital gown, patients wait in a gender specific waiting room. The therapist comes to get you when they’re ready and walks you back to the treatment area. Prior to treatment, I have to stop at a desk where my patient information and photo is displayed on a computer screen. I have to tell the therapist my last name and date of birth. I can see why this precaution is necessary. Hordes of people must by trying to sneak in for some free radiation. Ok, I understand it’s to make sure they have the correct patient, because all us bald heads walking around in hospital gowns look the same and that could cause some confusion.

Once I’m aligned on the table and the mask (which by the way, I taking suggestions on what to name it) is secured, the therapist leaves the room. The machine itself is a large arm that rotates around me. I get a low dose of radiation to my back and one to the front of my chest. The whole process is about 2 minutes long and it’s very loud & noisy. Even worse is the music they play in the room, one day it was country and I have no idea what the crap I was listening to yesterday. I miss my iPod for those 2 minutes of my life.

Here’s an observation I’ve made during my visits. While in the waiting room, it’s very obvious that many of the other patients are smokers. I’d guess 1 out of 3 reek of cigarette smoke. You know they’re patients for radiation because they’re fighting off some nasty disease too, but at the same time they’re putting themselves at risk for another one. It’s like a skin cancer patient jumping into a tanning bed everyday. What the hell? I did find the 70-something year old patient lounging around in his SpongeBob Squarepants jammie bottoms pretty cool. He made my day.