I want to believe (...that this is almost over)
There was a moment yesterday, as two doctors crowded around my head, drawing on my neck with sharpies, that I realized would be the perfect “RECORD SCRATCH, yep, that’s me…you’re probably wondering how I got here?” moment in a movie. I could actually hear it in my head, and I had to stop myself from giggling so A) they didn’t think I was losing it (it’s long gone) and B) because I was supposed to be super duper still.
This was all part of the preparation to get ready for radiation. Apparently, they don’t just stick you in a machine and shoot the radiation at you, they are very precise about it, which I guess is better. Still, this was much more preparation than I was expecting.
When we arrived, we first met with a nurse who went over how the procedure would work that day, and how the radiation process itself would work. Joe and I also received what must have been the 8th talk so far about how important it is that I not become pregnant while doing chemo and radiation, or we’ll end up with a baby with four arms (or…with superpowers…hmm). Every time this comes up, I just stare at them with a blank look because A) I don’t know how anyone would feel like having sex right now and B) I don’t want any babies, let alone babies who’ve been messed up by radiation. I told them as much at the appointment and they still kept on about how important it is, until I assured them that Joe and I are both rule-followers so they have nothing to worry about. (They still made me take a pregnancy test, though.)
Then, the radiation tech came to get me. He explained that they’d be doing a CT with contrast (yay, I got to feel like I peed my pants again!) and taking some measurements for the mask I’ll need to wear during treatment. This turned out to be way more of a process than I had anticipated. First, I had to change into one of the super comfy hospital gowns, and lie down on the CT table (which was the hardest surface I’ve ever laid on), while balancing my neck on a plastic pedestal, which my neck did not enjoy since it’s still recovering from being cut open. (They had to replace some muscle in my neck during my surgery, so my neck is still pretty wobbly when I lie down and get up. It’s a whole thing.)
Once I was in position, the doctors came in and started drawing on me. Basically, they were marking where on my neck the radiation would be concentrated. When I looked at myself after the appointment, they had pretty much covered my neck with blue and red sharpie. (Quick question…why use sharpie? Magic Marker would be so much easier to wash off.)
When the doctors finished their art project, the doctor in charge stuck a weird putty mold in my mouth that made me feel like I was choking. This was to make the mouthguard I’ll wear during treatment. Here’s the thing…my mouth (tongue specifically) is still pretty messed up from surgery. Everything is swollen and sore and I’m learning that I don’t especially enjoy having people mess around in there right now, which is a feeling I suspect might never go away.
They then removed the mold (yay!) and measured where the doctors had marked on my neck, so they could get my mask ready. This mask will help immobilize my head so the radiation hits in the same spots each time. They also took a bunch of pictures of me that I hope I never, ever see.
The last step was to create the actual mask. They made me put the mouth guard back in, then told me to shut my eyes so they could place the mask material on my face. When they brought it out, it was just a square of material, but when they put it on, it was really warm and just sort of…melted onto my face. It was alarming, and I could feel myself on the edge of panic until I realized I could still breathe through my nose. At that point, my back was starting to hurt, my feet were going all tingly because of the way my legs were positioned, and my neck was really starting to hurt. One of the techs came in to start the IV contrast, and she assured me that it was almost done and, “the doctor looks happy, which is good.”
They finally did the CT scan of my head and neck, and the doctor will use all of this information to finish planning for radiation, which is scheduled to start on 10/5. We’ll have a practice run, or a dress rehearsal, the Friday before. Once it was all over, I was allowed to get dressed and one of the techs gave me some alcohol wipes to clean the marker off of my neck. It was kind of alarming to see how much they’d drawn, and the alcohol wipes mostly just smeared everything around, making it look like my entire neck was bruised.
On the way out of the hospital, I was trying to explain to Joe why I felt so tired (other than it being an hour or so past when my food and pain pill was due), and found myself getting pretty upset as I explained what they’d done to me. If you read the above, it probably doesn’t sound all that bad. But there was something about just lying there as numerous people milled around my prone body, doing things to me I’d really rather not have done, that just made me feel really…powerless. Maybe it’s because I’ve been rewatching The X-Files, but it’s what I imagine an alien abduction must feel like. I couldn’t move, I just had to lie there and let them do these things to me.
That’s sort of been the theme of all of this. When I agreed to treatment, though I still of course have a say in what happens to me, I basically agreed to hand over the reins to the medical professionals and trust that they’d get me through this. And, you know, so far, so good, but it has meant just going along with whatever tests or procedures necessary in order to get to the next step.
Luckily, all of the medical staff I’ve dealt with, for the most part, has been very nice and gentle about everything. They are great about explaining what’s going to happen beforehand, reassuring me throughout that it’s going well or that it’s almost over, and checking on me before, during, and after. Still. DO NOT RECOMMEND.