This is the day that seemed so far off in the future since my radical prostatectomy surgery in late March of this year. It would have been started a few months ago, but I asked if I could put it off without endangering my health in order to teach two Saturday sessions of botanical illustration in October that I had to cancel already because of the surgery. Since I started hormone therapy as well in August, my urologist/oncologist said that that would be fine.
My appointment was supposed to be yesterday, but I got a call from the radiology clinic at Queen's hospital who told me that Kaiser, who I have my health insurance with had approved the request for Tomo Radiation. She told me that “Kaiser hardly ever approves Tomo, as it costs them twice as much”. She also told me that “it is more precise and causes less side effects as traditional radiation”. I felt some comfort in that, and that God must have allowed my application to find favor with whomever decides such things.
Last night, I finished the little booklet, Trusting God in the Hard Times – Lessons from the Life of Elijah, by Bill Crowder. I was hoping it would give me some peace as I face the unknown. It helped a little, but living an experience and how you deal with it is never like reading about the similar experience of another or what attitude to have.
I woke to rain this morning & was hoping it would clear off so I could take the bus rather than drive. About a half an hour before I was to leave, the clouds parted and the sun brightened the valley where I live. Once on the bus, it seemed surreal of what waited for me at the end of my bus journey. I felt numb. Suddenly, though I have not been experiencing much anxiety about radiation, I felt overwhelmed and knew, though I was promised the prayers of family & friends, felt totally alone in the journey. Several people, as I have faced surgery, hormone therapy, radiation & an unknown future have told me that they are surprised how well I have been taking it. I do not know how they expected me to react. I only shed some tears the day I heard the prognosis from the urologist/oncologist.
I brought the thick packet from Kaiser explaining the cost and benefits of their 2010 health plan for something to read. The first booklet I opened had a photo of my family practice doctor with whom I have formed a friendship and who had e-mailed me earlier that morning to tell me he had me in his thoughts and prayers. I don't think this was a coincidence with all the materials that were in the packet. I was not evening thinking I would see a photo of him in the enclosed printed matter. As the bus got closer to Queen's, I felt myself break out into tiny sweats of hot flashes several times from the hormone treatments.
When I checked in at the front desk of the radiology department, I asked if I could stay in my shorts and tank top rather than change into a hospital gown and white robe as I had done on a previous visit. She called the Tomo treatment room and was told I would indeed have to change into the hospital gown and robe. So, I changed and sat down, making sure my knees were together amongst about 15 other persons in the waiting room. I also took a drink of water, though not thirsty, as I was advised to have the radiation on a full bladder for fewer side effects to other organs.
I had tucked the little booklet in my bag on trusting God I mentioned earlier so I could leave it amongst the other reading material in the room as I said a quick prayer that the right person, to whom it would minister most would find it. I also started saying silent prayers for the other patients I saw in the room that I was reminded to do my last visit to the radiologist.
Finally, my name was called and I was lead to the Tomo radiology room. It looked similar to the CT scan machine that had scanned me two days the previous week. I asked if I could stay in shorts for my upcoming visits but was told that they might bunch, so I best change into the hospital attire each day. He then took a photo of my face with a digital camera he said was used for my file. Each time they were going to radiate me, my photo would be on their screen as well, to make sure they were giving the right person the right treatment.
The Tomo technician asked me to lie on the table where they had form-fitted something to hold my legs in the exact position each time, the previous visit. The technician & his assistant then put a towel across my private parts to give some feeling of modesty during the procedure. They told me I would need to lie perfectly still, but if I needed them for some reason, to raise a hand or call out, as there was a microphone in the chamber, but they would be in another room.
I was happy that I did not have to have the tattoo marks that I feared (and was told I would get today by the person who did the CT scan the previous week), but they would use the three marks that had been put on me the previous week which has small circles of tape on them to help keep them from washing off. After re-situating where the beams would go, it was time for my first radiation treatment and I was alone in the chamber, as well as the room.
I suddenly felt very alone and felt tears well up in my eyes, with one slowly falling down my cheek. How I wanted to be strong and not be filled with self pity even in this battle with cancer. I then heard several times in my mind the verse in Hebrews 13:5, “I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee”. I was comforted by these words as I heard the machine start up which sounded like a loud vacuum cleaner in the room with gravel scraping together as the sound encircled my body. There was no physical pain and 7 minutes after it started, my first session was over.
I stopped to talk to the assistant to get a regular time to come back for my daily appointments and told her I preferred late afternoon. She told me I could come at 4:00, and would be their last patient for the day. I then asked her if people ever started a course of radiation & decided not to come back. She told me that though it is not advised, yes, some people do give up. I asked if they might do that because they felt good, and she replied, “or because they felt bad”. I told her I did not intend to stop treatments. I then went to change back into my clothes and looked to see if the little booklet was still on the table where I left it, which it was. The receptionist said with a smile, “See you tomorrow”.
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