Radioactive!
I have the song Radioactive from Imagine Dragons in my head most mornings these days on the drive to Oxford. This is completely inappropriate as I am not radioactive after treatment, despite having highly targeted radiation blasted at me daily! The wonders of modern medicine....
Radiotherapy so far is going pretty well. Day 1 was a little traumatic as the machine broke which meant a lot of waiting around. But the centre is very comfortable with lots of chairs, magazines, papers, coffee, tea, fruit and biscuits. Shame about the biscuits, which are strictly off limits due to my newly acquired Coeliac status, but everything else is of interest to me! Everyone at the centre is also lovely as well and I guess because people are going every day you build up quite a rapport.
I have to say that after the hell of the pre-planning scan I really was quite nervous about what radiotherapy would have in store for me. Based on my experience so far, I needn't have worried too much, although all of this is caveated by the fact that I am only 4 days in.
So the process goes something like this. I arrive courtesy of my taxi-driver (different one each day so far which is a little tiring, so I have said to a couple that I just want to sleep). Quick cup of coffee/tea in the reception area and then you get called through to a little waiting area just outside of the treatment room. Here is a picture of the set-up of the room.....
Dignity is left at the door (well, behind the modesty screen) as you are naked from the waist up. I did have a little thought about whether men being treated for prostate cancer also have to have the treatment area exposed. I don't know the answer, but suffice it to say that it could be worse. I guess it's like giving birth - you know that the staff see the same thing day in day out so best just to get on with it!
It's crucial that the radiation is delivered to exactly the same spot each time. That's where the red and black bed and supports come in. Your legs are supported by the cushion nearest the left of the screen and your arms are extended over your head in the supports near the middle of photo. The set-up is unique to each individual patient. You then shuffle into the required position. The lights are dimmed and lasers are projected around you to check your positioning on the board and therefore where the radiation will be delivered. If you're not in the right place you are gently man-handled until you are. Alarms then sound and the technicians leave the room. They can still hear and see you and you can hear them. You also have a tiny monitor by your head on which you can see your breathing pattern. It has several lines on it and when asked to, you have to breathe in, hold your breath and hope like hell that the breath monitor shows you a green light (indication that you have reproduced the breathing pattern in the planning scan). First, the machine takes a scan of you in situ whilst you are holding your breath to check you are in the right place. The machine rotates around you whilst it is doing this. You have to lie very still during the process. It's amazing how itchy every area of your body can be when all of a sudden you can't move! The exercises have really helped and I am now much more comfortable than previously in the required position, so this is at least a bonus.
Once the checking scan has been taken the technician pops back in and fiddles with something on the machine to remove a couple of screens and we are ready to begin the treatment. Treatment for me starts with the lymph nodes in my neck area. These are the next lymph nodes that any remaining tumour cells may have gone to, as the first lymph nodes that they hit were taken out during surgery. Again, you have to take a deep breath in and hold it. The machine whirs and starts moving and makes a buzzing noise. It's not particularly loud. You don't feel anything. It's only on for about 10-20 seconds and then the instruction from the technicians that you can breathe away normally. The next treatment is the area formally known as my left breast. Radiation hits its maximum effectiveness about 1cm under the skin. This doesn't quite cut the mustard as there may be some cancer cells lurking in the first 1cm. To get around this, a gel mask is stuck over the treatment area to trick the machine into thinking that this is skin so that you get the maximum effectiveness the moment the radiation hits my actual skin. It's very cold and you have to try very hard not to gasp when they put it on your skin. This is made even more difficult by the fact that you again have to hold your breath when they stick it on!
Once it's on they leave the room again. Once I am in the breath hold position again the machine does it's whirring and rotating thing. This phase of the treatment is delivered in 3 bursts with a break of a minute or so in-between. Once again, the machine is only on for a matter of around 30 seconds each time.
I can honestly say that all of this isn't as bad as I thought it would be. With the lights down and lasers pointing around the room and a big red light on the ceiling I have convinced myself that I am in some weird type of 80s disco. This theory is further supported by the music coming from the ceiling speakers. I kid you not, Elton John "I'm still standing" was playing today, which I thought was ironic and is firmly on my post cancer karaoke repertoire! Let's just say it is a bit of a random mix of music which most days raises a smile.
The only down side is the monotony of travelling there every day. I'm trying to make the most of it - there is a charity that provides holistic treatments for patients whilst they are there. Tomorrow I am trying acupuncture for the first time in my life and I also have reflexology, massage and mindful meditation booked in!
I'm tired, but that is about it. I'm moisturising the treatment area like a crazy lady as one of the worst side effects is burning to the skin and apparently this may be reduced by moisturising. I thought I was doing quite well as there is nothing there yet. My hopes were cruelly dashed when the technicians said that you don't get side effects for 2 weeks!
Ho hum x
Radiotherapy so far is going pretty well. Day 1 was a little traumatic as the machine broke which meant a lot of waiting around. But the centre is very comfortable with lots of chairs, magazines, papers, coffee, tea, fruit and biscuits. Shame about the biscuits, which are strictly off limits due to my newly acquired Coeliac status, but everything else is of interest to me! Everyone at the centre is also lovely as well and I guess because people are going every day you build up quite a rapport.
I have to say that after the hell of the pre-planning scan I really was quite nervous about what radiotherapy would have in store for me. Based on my experience so far, I needn't have worried too much, although all of this is caveated by the fact that I am only 4 days in.
So the process goes something like this. I arrive courtesy of my taxi-driver (different one each day so far which is a little tiring, so I have said to a couple that I just want to sleep). Quick cup of coffee/tea in the reception area and then you get called through to a little waiting area just outside of the treatment room. Here is a picture of the set-up of the room.....
It's crucial that the radiation is delivered to exactly the same spot each time. That's where the red and black bed and supports come in. Your legs are supported by the cushion nearest the left of the screen and your arms are extended over your head in the supports near the middle of photo. The set-up is unique to each individual patient. You then shuffle into the required position. The lights are dimmed and lasers are projected around you to check your positioning on the board and therefore where the radiation will be delivered. If you're not in the right place you are gently man-handled until you are. Alarms then sound and the technicians leave the room. They can still hear and see you and you can hear them. You also have a tiny monitor by your head on which you can see your breathing pattern. It has several lines on it and when asked to, you have to breathe in, hold your breath and hope like hell that the breath monitor shows you a green light (indication that you have reproduced the breathing pattern in the planning scan). First, the machine takes a scan of you in situ whilst you are holding your breath to check you are in the right place. The machine rotates around you whilst it is doing this. You have to lie very still during the process. It's amazing how itchy every area of your body can be when all of a sudden you can't move! The exercises have really helped and I am now much more comfortable than previously in the required position, so this is at least a bonus.
Once the checking scan has been taken the technician pops back in and fiddles with something on the machine to remove a couple of screens and we are ready to begin the treatment. Treatment for me starts with the lymph nodes in my neck area. These are the next lymph nodes that any remaining tumour cells may have gone to, as the first lymph nodes that they hit were taken out during surgery. Again, you have to take a deep breath in and hold it. The machine whirs and starts moving and makes a buzzing noise. It's not particularly loud. You don't feel anything. It's only on for about 10-20 seconds and then the instruction from the technicians that you can breathe away normally. The next treatment is the area formally known as my left breast. Radiation hits its maximum effectiveness about 1cm under the skin. This doesn't quite cut the mustard as there may be some cancer cells lurking in the first 1cm. To get around this, a gel mask is stuck over the treatment area to trick the machine into thinking that this is skin so that you get the maximum effectiveness the moment the radiation hits my actual skin. It's very cold and you have to try very hard not to gasp when they put it on your skin. This is made even more difficult by the fact that you again have to hold your breath when they stick it on!
I can honestly say that all of this isn't as bad as I thought it would be. With the lights down and lasers pointing around the room and a big red light on the ceiling I have convinced myself that I am in some weird type of 80s disco. This theory is further supported by the music coming from the ceiling speakers. I kid you not, Elton John "I'm still standing" was playing today, which I thought was ironic and is firmly on my post cancer karaoke repertoire! Let's just say it is a bit of a random mix of music which most days raises a smile.
The only down side is the monotony of travelling there every day. I'm trying to make the most of it - there is a charity that provides holistic treatments for patients whilst they are there. Tomorrow I am trying acupuncture for the first time in my life and I also have reflexology, massage and mindful meditation booked in!
I'm tired, but that is about it. I'm moisturising the treatment area like a crazy lady as one of the worst side effects is burning to the skin and apparently this may be reduced by moisturising. I thought I was doing quite well as there is nothing there yet. My hopes were cruelly dashed when the technicians said that you don't get side effects for 2 weeks!
Ho hum x
Comments
Post a Comment