Feeling Radioactive
I'm about a quarter done with radiation therapy, and so far it's been completely uneventful, even pleasant. Really beats the hell out of chemo. The basic routine is that each day (usually before work), I head up to Sibley (where, as a valued customer, I get free parking now), get strapped onto a table and listen to a machine whirring for 27 minutes while I get zapped from all angles.
Strapped is an understatement. I have a custom-molded plastic mesh mask that goes over my face, neck and shoulders, which holds me in place to ensure the rays hit the same place each time. And how do you make a custom-molded plastic mask? You heat the plastic to 9,000 degrees so it's nice and bendy and then you press it to your FACE. That was unpleasant.
It's either that or markings on the skin. It looks pretty medieval. The table sits under a $3 million machine (I asked), which is enclosed in a vault, complete with lead walls and a 10-inch thick bank style door. All this to protect the outside world from that which I'm being subjected to. If I had claustrophobia issues, this would be my Abu Ghraib.
Strapped and zapped, day in day out. It's really not bad. Usually I just sleep.
I'm supposed to be getting some irritating side effects, like soreness in my neck and jaw, a severe sore throat and a bad sunburn. So far I haven't felt a thing, though they keep saying 'any day now.' I prefer to think I'm impervious.
Transitioning back to being cancer-free is interesting. My hair is growing back, which is nice. It's even coming back in new places -- suddenly I seem to be growing a mustache. Chemo has finally completed puberty for me. I also have to start getting out of the habit of ending arguments with "I have CANCER." Lately I've been shouting "I beat CANCER" a lot. It doesn't work as well.
Strapped is an understatement. I have a custom-molded plastic mesh mask that goes over my face, neck and shoulders, which holds me in place to ensure the rays hit the same place each time. And how do you make a custom-molded plastic mask? You heat the plastic to 9,000 degrees so it's nice and bendy and then you press it to your FACE. That was unpleasant.
It's either that or markings on the skin. It looks pretty medieval. The table sits under a $3 million machine (I asked), which is enclosed in a vault, complete with lead walls and a 10-inch thick bank style door. All this to protect the outside world from that which I'm being subjected to. If I had claustrophobia issues, this would be my Abu Ghraib.
Strapped and zapped, day in day out. It's really not bad. Usually I just sleep.
I'm supposed to be getting some irritating side effects, like soreness in my neck and jaw, a severe sore throat and a bad sunburn. So far I haven't felt a thing, though they keep saying 'any day now.' I prefer to think I'm impervious.
Transitioning back to being cancer-free is interesting. My hair is growing back, which is nice. It's even coming back in new places -- suddenly I seem to be growing a mustache. Chemo has finally completed puberty for me. I also have to start getting out of the habit of ending arguments with "I have CANCER." Lately I've been shouting "I beat CANCER" a lot. It doesn't work as well.
posted by Tim at
10:59 AM
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