Radiation is Over!!

I have a new lease on life now that radiation is behind me.  I thought I'd just be happy about getting that extra time back in the day but I'm surprised at how relieved I feel.  I no longer have a daily appointment looming over my head and even though I got used to the claustrophobic mask the whole experience was still disturbing.  I mean how could being immobilized on a table so I could get zapped by radiation ever feel normal? 
I have a large pile of thank-you notes I need to send to all the people who helped me get through the last six weeks of awful.  I was feeling so discouraged and stressed and didn't know what else to do except to pray.  So that's what I did.  I prayed for help and it didn't take long for help to come.  I still had to do radiation, care for a newborn, and help with the opening of our practice.  None of those hard things were removed from my life but at least I was given the help to get through all those things in ways I could never have imagined.  I have learned to swallow my pride and wave the white flag of defeat.  Letting people see me at my worst and allowing people to help me was hard a first but once I swallowed my pride and surrendered, my burdens were lifted.
My last day of radiation was weird.  I went in and got zapped just like I had every time before that, but when I hopped off the table for the last time I had a spring in my step.  Win, my favorite tech who always told me to slow down as I hurried down the hall, put my mask in a garbage bag for me to take home and I joked that I should have brought a bow to make it look all official.  Then I got to ring the bell, signifying the end of treatment, while Sarah and Bria, my other two techs, cheered and took pictures.  I laughed through the whole thing.  Mostly because I felt like a fraud.  I'm not bald {not completely anyway} or sick, or dying.  Ringing that bell is for people who really had to fight.  But you know what?  I'm still a cancer survivor.  I had cancer and now it's gone.  {I hope.}  And now I get to spend the rest of my life going in for follow-ups to check that I don't have cancer, and being paranoid at any little bump or brown spot that appears on my skin.  So I decided to ring that bell with pride, hugged my techs goodbye, and laughed when Win handed me my mask with a big bow on it that he'd managed to dig up from somewhere.  With tears in our eyes, I hugged my friend Laura, goodbye too.  Her battle with breast cancer is far from over.  I could see the fear and uncertainty in her eyes as we talked in the waiting room while doing the jigsaw puzzle each day.  I told her I would keep her in my prayers, and I have.  To all my friends and family both near and far who have been praying for me, sending gifts and cards, watching my kids, making meals, and loving Henry while I went to my appointments, you have changed me.  The kindness that was shown to me was unprecedented and more than I deserved, but definitely appreciated. 

So creepy!  And trust me, there were days when this mask was much tighter than others.  If I didn't lay in just the right position I knew right away! 

Check out those awesome bolts that snapped me to the table.  They remind me of Frankenstein!

 I am in the process of permanently losing about an inch of hair from my hairline and new blisters are emerging each day.  The surface of my skin doesn't have any feeling but my head hurts underneath.  You know that ache you get when you have a bad cold and you bend over and the pressure hurts your head?  That's how my head feels. And it itches.  Due to a cowlick I have parted my hair in the same place my entire life which shows off my scarring rather than hiding it. I am now trying to train my hair to part in the other direction to cover the site up.  It's a losing battle. 

These pictures of Henry were taken my first and last day of radiation.  He's grown a lot in 6 weeks! He's not going to know what hit him when he gets to take a morning nap in his bed every single day instead of getting hauled around to be babysat.  I'm so glad he's too young to remember the chaos of the past six weeks!

Radiation

So radiation starts Monday.  After my consult/planning appointment I am now emotionally scarred.  The doctor spent quite a bit of time telling me how strange my cancer was and although the biopsies show the cancer is gone, he is quite sure I should still do radiation.  He also said I was wise to have the dermatologist dig out the cancer and risk paralysis because radiation would've been difficult and not as successful.  Hooray!  But the radiation will only reduce the chance of the cancer coming back, not eliminate it.  I have to do radiation Monday-Friday for five weeks.  Five stinking weeks!  And my hair will fall out around the site and will not grow back.  I keep telling myself to not care about that but I do.  I have very little hair to work with anyway so here's to a lifetime of ugliness.  Oh, and my skin is going to get all spider veiny too.  Makeup might cover that.  {As if I have time to put makeup on.}  I might feel fatigue from the treatments {I already am so no big deal} but that's about it.  Oh, and I get my own little parking pass right outside the oncology unit with a little card I have to scan so I don't have to sit in the waiting room.  Instead, I get to sit in a different room (full of radioactive patients) and work on a jigsaw puzzle until the the doctor calls me in for my treatment.  Did I make all that sound kind of positive and doable?
Here's what happened at my appointment and here's how I really feel...

My nurse, {her name is Cheryl which is the name of my long-time best friend so I try to find comfort in that} took me into the radiation room, showed me this white creepy mask that they would make for me and that it wouldn't hurt but it would cover my whole face and not allow me to move and do I have problems with claustrophobia?  No, I said.  {But I do now! } So I laid down on the table.  They strapped my feet down and told me to close my eyes.  They put what felt like a really hot, wet mesh towel over my face and as it cooled, it hardened.  It covered my nose and I wasn't able to open my mouth so I started to panic and made myself go to my happy place while I was pretty sure I was about to suffocate to death.  Eventually the plastic hardened and my airways cleared.  Then they strapped the mask to the table so I couldn't escape no matter how badly I wanted to, everyone left the room and I got zapped or whatever, meanwhile I was bawling my eyes out which is really hard to do when you can't move your face.

Happy Halloween!

Here I am waiting for the mask to harden and a good shot of how it's bolted to the table

Going through the tube with my feet tied together

The staff kept asking me questions and all I could do was thumbs up or down.  Why were they talking to me??!!

I have diagnosed myself with PTSD.  You say the word oncology and my pulse races, I break into a cold sweat, and I envision myself running down the street far away from anyone and everything but all that is just what's inside my head.  On the outside I just try not to sob/scream when people can see me.  I walked past all the people in their recliners getting chemo, thought of my mom, and I suddenly wanted to throw up and then run away screaming.  Instead I kept following Cheryl down the hall pretending like I wasn't having a panic attack.

I know I don't have cancer.  I know radiation is a million times better than chemotherapy.  I know I have some post-partum anxiety that increases when I'm tired, making reality much worse than it is.  But I also know that I feel terrified, the same way I feel during a bad dream.  The dream isn't real but the feelings of terror are.  I don't do well with medical stuff.  Not because the sight of blood makes me queasy but it makes me want to panic.  This is why I am not a nurse.  This is why I never went to my mom's doctor's appointments with her.  I couldn't handle it.  And this is why Henry was born when he was.  Because he is my anchor and when I hold him everything is right in the world.

I am so thankful for the love and support from family and friends near and far.  My friend brought over dinner yesterday and my Rhode Island friends had a cheesecake delivered.  I laughed as soon as I saw it.  I am surrounded by amazing women in my life.  Barb/neighbor/mother-friend helped me hang wallpaper in our office.  Suzie came over unannounced to do laundry and clean my kitchen.  My home teacher brought over warm cookies.  Mel {the famous food blogger} and her husband sent me Jeni's ice cream.  Man, that was good stuff! Randy's mom sent me her homemade granola. Countless friends have snuggled Henry when I couldn't and will continue to do so through my appointments.

Barb and Sherri hanging wallpaper at the office while I offered moral support

Coming home to cheesecake from my RI peeps after a long day was the best!

 I am surrounded by angels, both living and non-living.  I'm am being taken care of and have no reason to complain.  But the tears come anyway and I'm ok admitting it.  I know after a week of radiation it will feel like no big deal and when it's all done I'll enjoy the extra hour of free time added to my day.  Eventually I might even find time to start exercising again and then I'll really be able to cope with my life in ways I can only imagine right now.  Until then, I will randomly burst into tears.
peace out.