I'm on day five of my radiation treatments. Dr. Deere said to me during my appointment that in week two and three will be when I experience skin changes. Let's cross our fingers that, that won't actually happen to me. I have experienced the fatigue and I've gotten dizzy a couple of times.
I check in and there are about 20 people in the waiting area just like me awaiting their treatment. The front desk phone rings, a few minutes later Nikki says, "Go on back Leslie." I grab my coat, coffee, phone, and keys and go through the double doors labeled PATIENTS ONLY. For some reason, I still manage to forget I need to change into a gown and walk right past the women's dressing room. I immediately turn around and go in. Once again, I grab my things and head clear to the back where my tech and nurse are waiting for me. "Good morning Leslie." Now, of course everything is routine even though it's only been five days. The first day, however, was anything but routine.
I tried to talk myself out of radiation for months and as my wound was healing I knew I would no longer be able to avoid it. In fact, my oncologist said to me that I needed to have my radiation completed by my next appointment which was in April. There was no-where else to hide. I couldn't hide behind my scar anymore, or court dates involving my children, or the anger towards Becky and Roger, or my anger at the world.
I approach the table and they tell me to set my things down and lay down. Right away they start positioning me. Now, don't move, we'll move you. They grab a triangular pillow to insert under my knees and then my left arm raises up above my head and rests into two molds; one for my shoulder to rest in and one for my elbow. My right arm is to lay down my side and I am not to move at all. Now, this is when I sneeze, and I get an itch on my nose that won't go away. I tell the tech that my nose itches, and I'll tell you, they are serious about not moving. "Here, I'll itch it for you," she says.
After they've tugged on you and marked on you with a sharpie, and labeled you with stickers, and tell you to move your head a certain way, it's TIME! It's time for this scary machine to zap you with radiated beams. You'd think they would be red beams, but they are green. What's so strange about the beams is that they are on opposite sides of the room. It kind of reminds you of a Lazar show.
Now, for the really scary part. The tech and the nurse place a square, open-shaped box underneath a circular dial, and then another square device underneath that. Then they lower the machine almost to your nose, and she says, "Don't worry, it' won't touch you." The fear at this point isn't whether this machine is going to collapse on top of you, or not, it's just pure fear. You have no idea what to expect, and you have absolutely no control over any of it. You have to trust these medical professionals with your life.
Wednesday, February 27, 2013
Saturday, February 2, 2013
Neither snow, nor ice kept my other sister from having her yearly mammogram the other day. I asked her if she wanted me to go with her considering she had driven to Kansas City countless times with me for my appointments. I knew she was scared. Who wouldn't be? A machine that literally squeezes the begeezes out of your boobs all the while you're suppose to relax and breath.
Technology has come a long way even in the past couple of years. Salina Regional Imaging Center has gone digital which allows radiologists a clearer view of your breast. What use to be a blur on a scan now appears clear as day as you can see veins, tissue, etc. I thought it was pretty cool to see the images instantly on the computer.
Melanie was lucky and won a free scan at Long McArthur's yearly breast cancer awareness ladie's night. I suppose out of all the door prizes available, this may have not been a want, but definitely a need as she doesn't have insurance.
We arrived early enough for her to fill out her personal history. "Are you sexually attracted to," a. men, b. women, c. men and women, or d. neither" When she read these options allowed, I responded, "Are you serious?" Melanie, of course, checks men and then responds, "my husband," which she writes in on the questionnaire. That was our comic relief for the day.
Explaining the painful, awkwardness of a mammogram isn't too difficult to explain to the opposite sex. At least for Melanie it isn't. She has a unique take on it, although it's the best comparison I believe. She told her husband, "Pretend it's your dic*. Yes, the machine can go that low, or maybe they would have you stand on a step stool. Now, imagine a machine squeezing on it, bend toward the machine, suck in, stand still while the tech takes their images."
Now, for the woman. Hoist your boob on the platform. Lean in, relax your shoulder, tilt your head, move your other shoulder forward and smile for the camera. "Let me know if it hurts or not," the tech says. "Really?" Let me pinch and twist your nipple and twist and you tell me know if it hurts or not.
Humor is essential during these appointments. Fear seems to take over and all you're left with is wondering if the pain you're feeling in your breast is normal or not. A brave face is definitely not necessary, but protecting your loved ones from your fear is.
My sister tries to down play the whole experience, but she's watched me this past year go through chemotherapy, surgeries, countless biopsies, and my own fear of dying. She's tried to be brave for me and support me through my crisis of living of or dying.
Because she has no insurance, the only thing I can think of is encouraging her to go with me to Kansas City and encouraging her to make an appointment with my GYN. The wonderful thing about KU MED is that they will treat you like a person and if you don't have insurance or even if you're under insured, they will help you get the resources you need to be able to take care of the expense. They will tell you if there are scholarships available, or grants that you can take advantage of whereas, Salina Regional will not. They will perform a screening for you, but if you need to have a cyst aspirated, or you need a follow-up appointment with your doctor explaining what is going on with your results, you're out of luck. So what happens? Women who can't afford the next step after the screening just ignore what's going on because they can't afford it. And, it's not so much ignore, but as Melanie states, "What the fu** should I do now?"
Technology has come a long way even in the past couple of years. Salina Regional Imaging Center has gone digital which allows radiologists a clearer view of your breast. What use to be a blur on a scan now appears clear as day as you can see veins, tissue, etc. I thought it was pretty cool to see the images instantly on the computer.
Melanie was lucky and won a free scan at Long McArthur's yearly breast cancer awareness ladie's night. I suppose out of all the door prizes available, this may have not been a want, but definitely a need as she doesn't have insurance.
We arrived early enough for her to fill out her personal history. "Are you sexually attracted to," a. men, b. women, c. men and women, or d. neither" When she read these options allowed, I responded, "Are you serious?" Melanie, of course, checks men and then responds, "my husband," which she writes in on the questionnaire. That was our comic relief for the day.
Explaining the painful, awkwardness of a mammogram isn't too difficult to explain to the opposite sex. At least for Melanie it isn't. She has a unique take on it, although it's the best comparison I believe. She told her husband, "Pretend it's your dic*. Yes, the machine can go that low, or maybe they would have you stand on a step stool. Now, imagine a machine squeezing on it, bend toward the machine, suck in, stand still while the tech takes their images."
Now, for the woman. Hoist your boob on the platform. Lean in, relax your shoulder, tilt your head, move your other shoulder forward and smile for the camera. "Let me know if it hurts or not," the tech says. "Really?" Let me pinch and twist your nipple and twist and you tell me know if it hurts or not.
Humor is essential during these appointments. Fear seems to take over and all you're left with is wondering if the pain you're feeling in your breast is normal or not. A brave face is definitely not necessary, but protecting your loved ones from your fear is.
My sister tries to down play the whole experience, but she's watched me this past year go through chemotherapy, surgeries, countless biopsies, and my own fear of dying. She's tried to be brave for me and support me through my crisis of living of or dying.
Because she has no insurance, the only thing I can think of is encouraging her to go with me to Kansas City and encouraging her to make an appointment with my GYN. The wonderful thing about KU MED is that they will treat you like a person and if you don't have insurance or even if you're under insured, they will help you get the resources you need to be able to take care of the expense. They will tell you if there are scholarships available, or grants that you can take advantage of whereas, Salina Regional will not. They will perform a screening for you, but if you need to have a cyst aspirated, or you need a follow-up appointment with your doctor explaining what is going on with your results, you're out of luck. So what happens? Women who can't afford the next step after the screening just ignore what's going on because they can't afford it. And, it's not so much ignore, but as Melanie states, "What the fu** should I do now?"
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