Radiation 101

                BURN: To undergo combustion.

I am slowly being cremated.  Seriously….if my outside looks like it does, my insides have got to be crispy by now.  Sometimes being oblivious is bliss.  I had no clue what I was in for… all I had heard was radiation was a piece of cake compared to chemo.  Little did I know that piece of cake was not a nice piece of say Apple Annie’s hazelnut squares; more like one of those muddy, rocky ,poo filled cakes we gave to Joey Schiavone when we were 6 (relax, he didn’t eat it; came close but smelled it before he took a bite). 

Anyway, like I said, I had no clue what they were doing.  This was evident when I asked why my chest was getting red.  I got one of those  looks that had dumb ass written all over it and was told by the sour- faced- no- humor- at- all- nurse that is what was being radiated.  This happened on the Monday of week three—so the next day when I was assuming the position and my awesome tech Jamie was rearranging, I told her what had happened—she laughed her head off and showed me all the targets (the tattoos... forgot about them).  The light went on.  However, she forgot to mention the exit wounds.  So at the end of the week I said “Jamie, don’t laugh (she started snorting—must be kin to me) but why is my back red?”  Of course the first snort gave it away, but I let it go.  She snorted again when I said “oh crap, it’s an exit wound isn’t it?”  She laughed even harder when J’Nell walked in laughing HER head off as we were on speaker and Jane in the waiting room was laughing HER head off.  Glad to know I was amusing them as I was being prepared to have invisible rays shot into my body.   The urge to move my feet to the music to annoy them almost got the better of me—but the thought of having to assume the position for any longer than needed, stopped me.  Side note on the moving of the feet comment--- I have this habit of crossing my feet when I am laying down and in the beginning Peter got on my case about my feet and I called started calling him the Foot Nazi (remember I have to lay perfectly still during all this as not to let the invisible ray hit something it should not).  Week 2 I got on his case… but he got his revenge.  Music is always playing to try to help take the mind off of the invisible rays and to their credit they do ask if there is anything you simply can’t listen to and they do take special request (lately I have been following an older lady who is only calmed down by Irish dance music).  That smart butt put on Elvis and the songs were those tap your feet to the beat kind of songs… I wanted to throttle him… which I voiced loudly as I knew I was on speaker.  Again, I amused them and Jane. 

Back to the not knowing part of this--- every week they take films to make sure all is going well.  Somehow Jamie and I got to talking—this was near the end of the 3^rd week,  an exciting eye opening week to say the least—and I heard the word lung.  I had forgotten all about that.  Because of the lymph node involvement, the way the invisible rays were launched, the tip of my lung is in the line of fire.  Immediately I began to have trouble breathing.  All in my mind of course.  But to be sure I took a swing past Krispy Kreme and to my delight the light was on.  And I had to respect the light.  After two hot ones, my mind stopped playing tricks on me. 

Another thing I did not even think about was the throat area.  Never even crossed my mind. However, my throat started to get sore this past Wednesday, but it was a scratching, different type of sore—not a sick sore.  Did not think much of it as it was not annoying me too much.  But on Friday, I was clearing my throat constantly and my voice was a wee bit raspy.  I mentioned this to Jamie (who to her credit did not laugh), told me was a potential side effect, but not to worry as it was only temporary.  Whew, dodged a bullet on that one—although I am sure there are many shaking their heads just wishing I would lose the voice for a few months. 

Week five begins tomorrow (Monday) and by 5:00pm I will be in single digits. This last week is a normal week—laser beams all over.  However, Friday will mark the last of the cremation rays.  Next week, week 6, is what is referred to as the boost week.  This is when I have 5 days of concentrated rays to where the tumor lived.  And by 5:00pm on Friday, August 10, I will be done.  No more assuming the position, no more burning; I will walk out of there with my certificate hopefully never to return.   I will begin to heal and that holly tree will just have to wait.

 “Give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.”                                               1 Thessalonians 5:18