Radiation Updates

Yikes, I've become quite lazy in keeping my blog up-to-date.  It's not like I've been to busy or anything.  I have no excuse this time.

Quite a bit has happened in the past month since I last "blogged."  My 8th and last chemo treatment was on July 26th.  What a happy day that was for me!  Don took me to my appointment.  It was the last time (hopefully!) either of us would see Grace and the other RNs who have been so good to me, so we stopped and got 2 dozen donuts for the staff.  They were all so appreciative.  Even though it started as a happy morning for me, since it was my last time getting chemo, it  still ended up being a pretty crappy and stressful day at times.  First, when we arrived, as we were waiting for a receptionsist so we could sign in, an older gentleman (who had just been through a weekend of  24/7 chemo treatment in the hospital) collapsed in the waiting room.  I started freaking out because that's what had happened to me that landed me at Kaiser for 2 days.  The nurses ran out to his aid, got his blood pressure, which was  very low (just like mine was), and called paramedics to take him back to the hospital.  Apparently Kaiser staff is not allowed to transport a patient to the ER.  Crazy.  Oncology is in the building right next to the main hospital, but now Kaiser is going to pay a $400 Ambulance bill rather than just wheel the guy over themselves. 

I really felt for the poor man.  I feel it's so unfair for someone his age (he looked old, although later Grace told me he's not really that old) to have to fight cancer.  I'm young.  Someone like me can handle it.  But he just looked so fragile.  It made me cry for him.  I was so worried and stressed out for the old guy.  I saw him later that day as we were leaving, and he was feeling much better and looked much better.  His family was so kind to Don and I just because we were concerned for his welfare.  A younger gentleman, who appeared to be his son, asked me my name and said, "Vesna, my family will pray for you so that you get better."  How kind.  I told him, "well, make it short and sweet 'cuz today's my last day of chemo and I'm outta here!"  They laughed.  Seems the old guy has Lymphoma (non-Hodgkin's) which is a lot tougher to beat. 

Going back to treatment, I was a bit anxious because during chemo #7 I had such severe resetlessness.  It was like restless leg syndrome only it was systemic - all over.  Fortunately, Grace gave me my Benedryl first which mellowed me out.  But it was a long wait for the chemo medication to arrive that we didn't start until after 9:00 a.m. Then I was told that Dr. Glowalla, my Oncologist, had also ordered an IV of Potassium Chloride after all my chemo so I was quite irritable that we would probably not be leaving the hospital until 1:00 p.m.  PLUS, I was having my PICC Line removed which also made me nervous.  I just no longer have the intestinal fortitude to handle gross stuff.  And I proved that to be true around 12:30 p.m. after shortly finishing a big, juicy Fatburger.  Don had bought me lunch since I was getting hungry.  About 10 minutes after finishing my burger, Grace came in to remove the PICC Line.  I honestly don't know if it was the stress or actually the chemo, but I gave up that Fatburger quick.  Ick; I can never eat a Fatburger again, ever.  I get a little green around the gills just thinking about one now.

The PICC Line removal was painless but I could feel a little "stringy" thing crawl out my veins.  It's the kind of feeling that gives you goosebumps, and apparently nausea and vomiting as well.  I hated the PICC Line experience; all of it.  From insertion to removal.  It always hurt a little, felt weird and gave me an awful rash.  But if I ever had to do chemo again (God forbid) I'd rather have a PICC Line or a Port-a-Cath inserted in me than feel the burn of the chemo medicine in my veins.  Don and I left around 1:00 p.m. and I celebrated with a long 2 day nap when I got home.  How happy I was just knowing it was all over.  Don't get me wrong; it wasn't a horrible experience considering it's saving my life.  It's just not one I'd ever care to go through again.  And hope to never have to go through, ever.

Fast forward to August 10th when I had my Radiology consult with Dr. Chen.  He informed me that I'll be taking a CT scan later that day and they would make my face mask.  This mask is used to hold my head in place while the giant radiation machine is "zapping" me in the chest and throat.  Apparently, they are also going to radiate my neck where there are surrounding lymph nodes.  They want to get everything for good measure.  Dr. Chen also informed me of all side effects: sore throat, cough, chest pain, teeth/gum pain, loss of appetite (fat chance), sensitive skin, skin burn, etc.  I'm not to shave my underarms (no problem, I haven't grown hair there in months!) and not to use deodorant or perfum/cologne/body spray; anything with alcohol will burn the skin.  Side effects start about 2 to 3 weeks after radiation therapy starts.

I then met with a technician who runs a CT scan and then tattooed my chest with permanent dots (really tiny, you can't quite tell they're not freckles) which will be used as markers to line me up under the radiation machine each time.  She also used a red marker on other parts of my chest and put round clear adhesive discs over the marks so they don't rub off.  She then proceeded to place a very warm, almost hot, white, pliable netting on my face, let it wrap around my neck and head, waited two minutes for it to dry and harden and then pried off my face.  That's the mask that will keep me still so radiation doesn't go into my chin or face.  Here's a photo of me with the mask on during one of my treatment sessions:

Just like I thought, Silence of the Lambs!!!  If you're claustrophobic, this is something you do not want to experience.  I've been told some patients lose it.  Fortunately for me, I don't think I'm claustrophobic and I'm really good about going to my happy place - McDonald's.  French Fries....mmmmm. 

On August 19th I had my PET Scan.  I still hated it as much as the last time.  It's not the machine, it's having to lay with your arms above your head for 20 minutes.  They cramp up and it's like Chinese torture.  On August 20th, Dr. Chen called me while I was with my husband and family in Mammoth to tell me that the results showed, "no abnormal signs of activity."  My family and I celebrated!  Here's a photo of us at the Train Concert in the woods at Mammoth.  That's me with my "wanna-be Cher with bangs" wig:

That was such a great weekend for us all.  We had a lot to be happy about.  I'm not cancer-free, but this is the best news one can hope for at this point in the game.  I later asked Dr. Chen, when I ran into him during one of my radiation treatments, what exactly "no signs of abnormal activity" meant and he explained that tumors have a metabolism (thus all the weight loss I experienced) and PET scans show active metabolisms as a red glow in the imaging.  Before they scan you under the machine, you are injected with a glucose liquid and sit for an hour as it spreads throughout your body.  The PET scan lights parts of your internal body that are metabolizing the glucose, so basically several of your organs are lit and any sort of tumor that may be active.  When you light up in only expected areas (heart, lungs, stomach, etc), then that means there are no "abnormal" signs of activity.  The tumor is "inactive."  When I had the tumor, I lit up in my chest between the lungs.  This time there was no E.T. phone home.  I won't be declared cancer-free for probably another 2 or 3 years but I'm happy with the fact I don't light up where I'm not supposed to.

August 24th I started my radiation therapy.  It's 12 treatments, 5 days a week so it's taking a total of almost 3 weeks to do (Labor Day weekend fell on the last week).  I've had 9 treatments so far and just started feeling the sore throat and chest pain side effect 4 days ago, right after my 8th treatment.  Other than that, it's relatively quick and painless.  I do get tired several hours after treatment so I usually take a later afternoon nap.  It's kind of screwed up my sleep schedule but that's OK, I'm not back at work yet.  The actual treatment lasts about 6 minutes, 5 of which are setting me up and lining me up on the table.  One minute is the actual radiation and it's a low dose since the tumor is in a risky spot, between the lungs and in front of the heart.  Long term potential side effects are respiratory issues and heart disease.  Makes one think the cure is worse than the disease, but if I didn't get chemo and radiation the Hodgkin's would have killed me.  Dr. Chen told me they are willing to take the risk.  So am I.

As I was saying, actual treatment is 1 minute long with 5 minutes spent prepping me.  The longest part of this whole thing is waiting for my name to light up on a board when it's my turn.  I've waited anywhere from 3 minutes to 45 minutes:

On the 8th treatment, which was just last Thursday (Sept. 2nd), Angel went with me and was really great about taking a bunch of pictures of the procedure.  The Radiologist Raffi and the Technician Chuck (I think that was his name) were really cooperative and even showed Angel how the machine rotates to "zap" me in the chest and in the back.  Here are the photos from that day.  The last photo is taken with Raffi:

Today is Labor Day so I didn't have treatment.  I thought this may be the perfect day to update my blog.  I only have 3 more radiation sessions to go so that means I'll be finished this Thursday.  THEN NO MORE TREATMENT WHATSOEVER!!!!  YAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAAAAAYYYYY!!!!  I'm so excited!  I'll only have to go in for a test in 3 months to make sure everything is still OK and the cancer isn't rearing it's ugly head again and I'm very optomistic such will be the case.  I've been a text book Stage 1B patient.  Everything has gone as best as it can be hoped for.  Right now I only have a sore throat and, although it is quite irritating and makes it difficult for me to eat my favorite foods, it's nothing compared to other side effects.  Honestly though, I should be eating pudding, ice cream and jell-o.  Anyone would be thrilled to be on that kind of diet, but I really like none of those things so today I choked down 8 KFC hot wings.  Really, how stupid is that?  I got one of the most abrasive, crunchy, scratchy meals for lunch.  Don't laugh yet, earlier today I purchased all the ingredients to make CRUNCHY tacos for dinner tonight.  I think I'll save that for tomorrow night.  In the meantime maybe my doctor will prescribe some liquid lidocaine for me so I can do shots it between tacos.  Tonight maybe I'll stick to soup.  Cream of something soup.  Eating those hot wings was a really dumbass idea.  I'm pretty sure I'll be trying to choke down another half dozen later this evening.  I'm a glutton for punishment and nothing keeps me away from my favorite junk foods.

I still find it quite remarkable that I have a disease that could have killed me.  Since Hodgkin's is so treatable, it's easy to forget sometimes that it's still cancer.  Instead of worrying whether or not I'm going to get cancer again, or if I'm going to die from this eventually, I guess I just have faith that God has a plan for me.  Part of me lives like there's no tomorrow (I will have that extra helping of pie) and part of me lives like I have many more tomorrows (I better fatten up that IRA and 401K).  I'm just grateful for every day that I have to enjoy my life, my wonderful husband, my blessed family, my awesome friends, my beautiful home, my God given life.

I have more blogging coming up in the next few months and years.  This journey is not over yet. 

Alex & I during lunch with Angel and my new friend and blog follower Liz.

Angel & I on our way to radiation treatment.

Angel & I posing in front of one of the nature scenes in the radiation lab.