Chemo Strikes Back

You have got to be kidding me! It’s been 3 weeks since I’ve been off the juice and NOW half of my eyebrows & eyelashes decide to abandon ship??? If you listen closely you can hear the sigh of utter disappointment. However, I am sporting a nice start of peach fuzz on the noggin. It’s very translucent. I can’t tell if I’ll be completely grey or the natural blonde I’ve always wanted.

Oh yeah, I did go swimming a few times this week.

Chlorine, I missed you so.

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.

Luminous Beings - Part II

Leia: I love you.
Han: I know.

I had a love/hate relationship with my PICC line, Han. Hated him at first, then he grew on me, and finally, I came to love him for the mere fact that he prevented me from being stabbed with a needle every week of treatment. Now that chemotherapy has been completed, and the PET scan results were excellent, it was time to say goodbye to Han. It's been a good three months buddy.

Now I'm going swimming.

Ready, set, pull. Gross huh?

It was completely painless coming out.

As for the results of the PET scan, the report indicates there is no significant residual activity identified within the mediastinum (marla), no new areas of abnormal PET accumulation.

Or just look at the pictures.

February 5, 2010

Three months and a myriad of chemicals later...

May 5, 2010

Luminous Beings - Part I

Luminous. Sounds better than radioactive. I had a PET (positron emission tomography) scan today, which shows exactly where the remaining cancerous cells are located. This information will be used by my Radiologist to map where the radiation is needed. The PET scan itself is, for the most part, painless. Preparation begins 24 hours prior to the scan. Following lunch, I was forbidden to eat carbs, sugars, and caffeine, only proteins. I had to avoid exercise & strenuous activity as well...ok, if I must. After a protein breakfast, it was nothing but water.



My appointment was at 11:30 am. Upon my arrival, I was presented with a tasty beverage consisting of Crystal Light Lemonade & iodine, the oral contrast. Just delightful, much like the glucose drink when testing for gestational diabetes. Chug it as best you can, leaving 1/3 of it for later.

Afterwards, I had to sit in a small room in a comfortable recliner. The experience is very new-age-ish: dim lighting, warm air, relaxing music (I highly recommend taking your own), a small water feature, and my personal favorite, lavender. A Q-tip is dipped in essential oil of lavender & placed beside you. It's amazing the calming effect something so simple can have. Then a radioactive solution was injected in my vein. I had to wait about an hour for my body to absorb the solution. The cancerous cells of a tumor will appear on the scan bright or luminous.



Minutes before the scan, I had to finish the remaining glucose drink. While the scan took place, I had to lay (or is it lie, I never remember) still for 30 minutes. During the scan you can listen to a cd of your choice, no iPods allowed. It was easy to fall asleep during this time, as the scanner makes a soft whirling noise. That was it. I am literally radioactive for the rest of the day and will be emitting radioactivity. I was advised to stay about 6 feet away from people. Next time, (I'll be doing this again in 3 months) I'm going to take a tour at Hill Airforce Base or walk around Dugway, just for fun.

Tomorrow I meet with my Oncologist for the scan results and possibly say goodbye to Han.