I have an extra week of radiation added on.
Because clearly the prior 6 weeks weren't sufficient.
As I sit in the waiting room for my extra week I'm seeing things differently. I'm much more tired. My time used to be spent on my phone while waiting for my name to be called. Now I just sit. And observe.
Today I noticed that someone prior to me was working on the find a word puzzle. She left her pencil in the book; probably unable to finish before she had to be beamed up.
The colored pencils they leave in the cup for us to use on the adult coloring books were just sharpened. A few pages have been started; none finished.
A water bottle half full. A magazine left open to an article.
No one has time to rest in the waiting room before we are called to battle. What would be nice if after our fight we came back and resumed the coloring and the reading and the find a words- that is the time we need to clear our minds most. After. Not before.
My extra week of radiation is called a "boost". The boost for me is to focus in on the site where the tumor was (as opposed to the larger area they've been radiating)
The upside of the boost is once I'm all snug in position it's very quick. No holding the breath this time.
The downside is the position makes me feel like a bit of a cirque du soleil contortionist - except, you know, I'm not 4"11 and 95 lbs soaking wet.
But I do lie on my side with my entire front exposed (before the boost they at least covered up the non radiated boob. This time around I'm just hanging all out there.) So as they mold me into an S position, staring at my boob and non boob to make sure the tattoos match up with the green beams-my opposite arm is now over my head holding on to a peg. Honestly village peeps, I wish I could take a picture for you to see- it's quite comical. Comical -especially when the lovely tech says to me "so, is this comfortable for you?"
Since the boost has me on my side I get a whole different view of the room this time around. I now face a sign I had yet to see..."radiation beam on/beam off." I sit there watching the red light (picture Cindy Brady in the episode of the quiz show when she is staring at the camera light and becomes frozen). This is me. Frozen in time waiting for the light to turn green. Waiting for the radiation to kill my cancer. Waiting to be set free.
The light turns green and I get up to put the scarf back on.
To tie the gown up.
To head to my respective locker with the key on the bungee cord.
I have 3 more days left or radiation.
3 more days to close another chapter.
12 chemo treatments
35 radiation treatments
Approximately 8 Herceptin treatments thus far.
2 surgeries (1 to go)
and,
well,
I'm doing it.
I've done it.
I'm living it.
Because clearly the prior 6 weeks weren't sufficient.
As I sit in the waiting room for my extra week I'm seeing things differently. I'm much more tired. My time used to be spent on my phone while waiting for my name to be called. Now I just sit. And observe.
Today I noticed that someone prior to me was working on the find a word puzzle. She left her pencil in the book; probably unable to finish before she had to be beamed up.
The colored pencils they leave in the cup for us to use on the adult coloring books were just sharpened. A few pages have been started; none finished.
A water bottle half full. A magazine left open to an article.
No one has time to rest in the waiting room before we are called to battle. What would be nice if after our fight we came back and resumed the coloring and the reading and the find a words- that is the time we need to clear our minds most. After. Not before.
My extra week of radiation is called a "boost". The boost for me is to focus in on the site where the tumor was (as opposed to the larger area they've been radiating)
The upside of the boost is once I'm all snug in position it's very quick. No holding the breath this time.
The downside is the position makes me feel like a bit of a cirque du soleil contortionist - except, you know, I'm not 4"11 and 95 lbs soaking wet.
But I do lie on my side with my entire front exposed (before the boost they at least covered up the non radiated boob. This time around I'm just hanging all out there.) So as they mold me into an S position, staring at my boob and non boob to make sure the tattoos match up with the green beams-my opposite arm is now over my head holding on to a peg. Honestly village peeps, I wish I could take a picture for you to see- it's quite comical. Comical -especially when the lovely tech says to me "so, is this comfortable for you?"
Since the boost has me on my side I get a whole different view of the room this time around. I now face a sign I had yet to see..."radiation beam on/beam off." I sit there watching the red light (picture Cindy Brady in the episode of the quiz show when she is staring at the camera light and becomes frozen). This is me. Frozen in time waiting for the light to turn green. Waiting for the radiation to kill my cancer. Waiting to be set free.
The light turns green and I get up to put the scarf back on.
To tie the gown up.
To head to my respective locker with the key on the bungee cord.
I have 3 more days left or radiation.
3 more days to close another chapter.
12 chemo treatments
35 radiation treatments
Approximately 8 Herceptin treatments thus far.
2 surgeries (1 to go)
and,
well,
I'm doing it.
I've done it.
I'm living it.
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