In Treatment

Part 2

Being diagnosed with cancer was a life changing, life interrupting, life crippling event. In the hours, days, weeks after hearing those terrifying words, “you have cancer”, I plunged into a deep depression. I lost all ability to control my life, manage my thoughts, basically function as a mother and wife.

I was broken.

The oncology team at the Tom Baker Cancer Centre consisted of Dr. Owen (hematology) and Dr. Balough (radiation). The results of the CT scan I had before my first meeting with Dr. Owen showed that the cancer was localized to only 1 area and at stage 1a. This, in cancer speak, is the best of the best. I was assured that although nodular lymphocyte-predominant Hodgkin’s lymphoma is a very rare type of cancer, it has a 98% cure rate when caught early. The treatment recommendation for this type of cancer is radiation alone. This was a huge relief to me given that the only thing I knew about lymphoma was that treatment was usually both chemotherapy and radiation. I was going to live.

Treatment started on October 26. I was scheduled for 20 treatments. 5 days a week for 4 weeks.

My first visit to the radiology wing was for a simulation and CT scan. During this 60 minute appointment I was put in a CT room and 2 nurses used laser guides and CT of my bones to take calculations for the exact position my body needed to be in for the radiation machine to hit the exact same spot every single visit. The technology has come a long way and the precision of the radiation field is within millimetres for error. The least amount of collateral tissue radiated, the better. Because the area that I was having treated was in my armpit I had to have my hand on my hip with my elbow out to the side. To ensure a quick set up for the daily treatments, they made a ‘pillow’ for me. The best way to describe this pillow is a beanbag chair. It’s a pillow that’s filled with little tiny beads. I laid on it and the nurses moulded the pillow around my arm, shoulder and head. They attach a vacuum to the pillow and suck out all the air leaving the once soft pliable pillow, hard and solid. The pillow would then go on a shelf in the radiation suite with my name on it for the duration of my treatments and after all my appointments were finished they just re-inflate the pillow and re-use it for another patient. It was very cool.

The other tool they use to assist in accurate aligning in the radiation machine is tattooing. So in addition to the ‘pillow’, I also got 3 tattoos. 1 on each side of my ribs and 1 right in the middle of my breasts and the bottom of my sternum. These tiny little black freckles will be a forever reminder of a time in my life, just like each and every one of my other tattoos.

The hardest part of daily radiation treatments was having to see the pain and suffering of fellow cancer patients around me. Many of them showing visible signs of fighting a battle for their lives. Some of them, like me, showing signs of being emotionally beaten. I often felt a conflict of relief that I wasn’t sicker and sadness for all of us just having cancer at all. The radiation suites are staffed by 2 or more nurses at all times. The room itself is a large room with high ceilings. You can hear big fans running to keep the massive radiation machine cool. There are guide lasers on the wall and a camera mounted in a corner so the nurses can see the patient while the machine is running and no one else can be in the room. The radio plays a top 40 station thru ceiling speakers and I eventually learned that the nurses could hear me singing (yes, eventually I wanted to sing again) and they could speak to me as well.

The nurses are always friendly and kind and very professional. They never give you that ‘how are you today?’ head tilted to the side, sympathy greeting because to them, we’re all just here doing what we have to do. A job.

Radiation treatments are quick and painless though the set up in the machine takes longer than the actual treatment itself. It takes 2 nurses to turn, pull, push, shimmy, slide and nudge the patient into the exact position that was calculated in the simulator. The computer won’t allow the nurse to turn on the radiation until everything matches up. Once my body was in position I was told not to move because even a cough or scratching my nose would mean they’d have to recheck everything again. The nurses leave the room and lock the big heavy lead door to the lead lined room. Sitting at a desk with multiple screens they activate the machine. Above my face I can see a small box move above me into position. Inside the glass front box are lead plates that move into a pattern. This pattern is the area around the radiation field that is NOT going to be treated. The lead pattern protects the outlaying tissue from unnecessary radiation exposure. In my case this area was my breast, arm, and a large part of my neck. Inside of this pattern is where the radiation WILL hit, killing the cancer, 1 cell at a time! I imagined it like the old school arcade game Space Invaders. Pew! Pew! Pew! (I’m a girl, that’s the best I can do for sound effects) The radiation beam shot me from the front side for 60 seconds and from the back side for 30 seconds. And then it’s over.

 

 

(In the week following my final treatment, as the doctor had warned me, my skin started to show signs of radiation burn. In the non friction parts of my skin it appeared tanned but in the friction part (my armpit) the skin peeled away like after a severe sunburn. This was very painful but did eventually heal)

November 25th marked the 20th treatment. It was a happy day. I even felt like doing my hair and dressing up. I hugged my nurse, Alison and told her, “I hope I never see you again!”

Outside the treatment suite was a surprise. My dear husband secretly arranged for my closest friends to surprise me to celebrate the end of my treatment. Flowers, hugs, tears and joy. We moved the celebration to a restaurant where more of my circle of friends joined us to celebrate. It was a great evening. I truly felt the love from everyone and the shared feeling of relief that the worst was behind me.