Butt wait, there's more!

Seems the weeks following my radiation, I've been feeling something is wrong.  I let it go on for a little while keeping an eye on it, then began cycling on what it could be and when I was certain that another tumor had developed, this time in the rectum or bladder, I went for consultation.  So in my last post, we learned that no new tumors or evidence of cancer has come back to the vagina and I was sent for another CAT scan and for a colonoscopy.  I still have to hear the CAT scan report and her findings from that this coming Tuesday.

Friday morning was the colonoscopy.  Seems everyone I spoke to has had one but me.  You have to eat a light liquid diet the day before and drink this prep stuff that night and then repeat again in the morning, the day of the outpatient surgery.  Did I listen?  No.  I got up for work, fed the dog and prepared my lunch like normal.  I eat with another co-worker in what I call my happy place - it's dark, has nice long tables, a full kitchen and an enclosed bathroom where you don't sit in public stalls.  So when she asked me what I brought for lunch and what time we were eating in there, I still spaced out that I wasn't supposed to be eating and ate that turkey tv dinner.  Even ate handfuls of M&M's around 4pm and you aren't supposed to have have any red or purple dye.  I only remembered when I got home and saw the prep medication.  It will have to do.  Mixed the first 6 oz. bottle with 32 oz. of water and got half of it down.  I should never have stopped drinking.  Took another half hour to finish it.  Got a really fat straw and put it in my water holder and drank another 32 oz. of water easily to wash it down.  Went and warmed up the bathroom, lit a candle and brought in my iPad to play games.  Then the evening really got started.  Each visit was so long my legs ached.  I would think that there were periods of time when the prep must have stopped working so I would come back to the couch to stretch out and rest only to jump up and rush down the hall, and suddenly the bathroom seemed so very far away.  This lasted until 11pm and I found I had fallen asleep on the couch.  I woke up long enough to get ready for bed when the last few urges tugged at me again.

Set my alarm for 5:45am and started the entire process again.  This time I mixed it with Gatorade with no red or purple color and drank it all down in one sitting.  I had evacuated most everything out the night before so it was clear coming through and no evidence of tv dinner!  I may be able to bluff my way through and fib that I stayed mainly liquid.  I admitted to it anyway.

I showered, got into my leopard-skin fuzzy duster, slid into my slippers and off I went to the Outpatient Surgery Center on the other side of town.  Don't know how you're going to be feeling afterwards, so you may as well be warm and comfy when you roll into bed upon your return.  It was 10:30am when I got there and everyone was in their street clothes and the place was filled with surgery patients.  I felt out of place.  My procedure wasn't until noon but they took me back fairly quickly and got an iv in me and ready to go.  I could hear the nurses talking on the other side of the curtain, rooms weren't available, doctor's weren't there, telling each other it's a good time to go to lunch.  My husband was off somewhere voting on his new union contract.  We were there early enough for him to just drop me off, I wasn't scared this time but would have liked the company.  I knew I was going to lay there awhile.  But everything was going really smoothly, the anesthesiologist came by, then the doctor, then the nurse came and wheeled me in.  Got me situated on my side, put some air/gas on me and I started to feel woozy when they started talking about how I was in O.R.5.  I said What?!  O.R.5!  Do you know they are re-making that movie, I was so hoping I wasn't going in THAT room.  There was brief conversation about Coma and the re-make and how the nurse loves this room, so I suggested just changing the name to something fun and she blurts out "The Tiki Room!"  I told her that place and Double Down were the best bars in Vegas.  She agreed, they were laughing and I was on my way to my own happy place.  Good night, lights out, and then a funny thing happened.  During the procedure, I felt this pressure I didn't like, some kind of pressure in me, a pushing in my belly, when I realized I had woken up during the surgery!  Couldn't move or open my eyes but I was aware what was happening for a moment and thank goodness I fell back under again.  I was back in the recovery room just waking up when the doctor came in.  I think of him like an Asian James Bond.  I really like his style.  He gave me an excellent report that there was no cancer evident, no tumors, no mass, no polyps, but what I did have was this:  (I'm cutting and pasting from Wikipedia)

Radiation proctitis (and the related radiation colitis) is inflammation and damage to the lower parts of the colon after exposure to x-rays or other ionizing radiation as a part of radiation therapy. Radiation proctitis most commonly occurs after treatment for cancers such as cervical cancer, prostate cancer, and colon cancer. Radiation proctitis involves the lower intestine, primarily the sigmoid colon and the rectum.

Radiation proctitis can occur at two times after treatment:

• Acute radiation proctitis — symptoms occur in the first few weeks after therapy. These symptoms include diarrhea and the urgent need to defecate, often with inability to do so (tenesmus). Acute radiation proctitis usually resolves without treatment after several months, but symptoms may improve with butyrate enemas.^[1][2] This acute phase is due to direct damage of the lining (epithelium) of the colon.

So this is what I am feeling causing me to feel like there is a mass there.  For those of you going through this cancer journey with me, see what we have to look forward to!!!  It's not going to heal.  They have burnt the tissue inside and possibly my bladder as well, they are just perfectly good cells that got taken out in the line of fire.  Going to have to adjust my lifestyle, go back to a healthy diet and juicing once again, and use enemas from now on.  This area of the rectum may also have shrunk causing difficulty in my bowel movements.  At least I was aware of my body to know something was amiss and go check it out - remove the fear that cancer had jumped to another area and get back to getting my house in order.

So back in the recovery room, another nurse was back with my clothes, my husband was there and she gave him instructions to go get the car and come around to the drive through in back and I would be there.  She complemented me on my leopard-skin duster and commented how well prepared I was to come dressed for surgery.  Not my first rodeo now, is it?  Love my comfy, cozy cushy clothes.  With all the people I see dressed in pajamas to do their grocery shopping these days, why not the surgery center?  I was starving, we got some quick food and headed back home.  Life feels very promising right now.  It's coming on Christmas.....

Grateful

The long, never ending highway of grief continues.  My husband's maternal grandmother passed away two days before Thanksgiving.  As if remembering this last holiday without my son wasn't hard enough to get through, this wonderful woman leaves us.  We won't be going to Morocco at this time but we were dreaming about going in April and still might, inshallah.  My husband calls his mother every night.  She paid a few thousand dollars to create a tent outside the house on the plaza and is feeding all who come by to pay their respects.  Relatives are still arriving from all over the country and the house is full of guests.  I wish we were there to help.  There is so much that goes with grief I wish we were there for, those that come to comfort you and those that just cause more pain.  His aunt was telling my husband how there are people there wanting to be waited on hand and foot while all this wailing goes on around them.  It was so horrible to hear about his grandmother's condition at the end.  

I think back of being with her in her bedroom in 2002 and her showing me photos of herself in her twenties.  She was so proud of being a "hottie".  I am also thankful that I remember better times with her - when the disease was just starting and her arms just starting to shake.  She was still able to get around great, so filled with life and able to let me know how much I meant to her.  One time she came fully dressed into the hammam (the baths) to give me shwika for my teeth - this horrible tasting stuff that cleans and makes them white - going past everyone and yelling in Arabic to them things that made them howl with laughter until she found me naked and being washed in the back hottest room with the girls covered in henna and babies playing in buckets of cool water.  I remember going off with my husband/then fiance to Agadir and when the cab came to get us it was dawn and I clearly remember his mom and grandmother in the front window of the house staring down at me, waving and blowing kisses.  What were they thinking about this American girl in an Adidas track suit and baseball cap that had come to take their golden boy away?  So many great memories I hold on to with fondness.  Anyway, we're doing better today. 

To take our minds off things we went and saw the movie Life of Pi yesterday.  It was in 3D and visually stunning like the reports say.  Such a spiritual and colorful story, it would be hard to believe if you heard it from someone.  Impossible and amazing things happen all the time to people and yet they come through them still internalizing and processing, asking the age old question, "Why did this happen to me, why was I chosen for this, and what am I to do with it after this experience is over?  Wait for some journalist to come along and put it into eloquent words and make it into a movie?"   

As for my health, I would just like to wake up one morning and not be afraid of what might be happening next.  Got up Friday morning at 5:30am, drank my barium and made it to my CAT scan on time.  Almost forgot about the horrors of diarrhea for a moment until it came rushing back.  Been trying to flush the stuff out of my system now.  I have the results on CD and may try to look at it later.  Last time I had the film and looked at it I could see I needed more medical training to notice anything.  Hope nothing is visible for me on it this time.  There is still the colonoscopy appointment to do on Tuesday.  Saw the oncologist last week and she reports that she sees nothing in the vagina but ordered the CAT scan with and w/o contrast to be sure.  Almost cried in her office when she told me.  The feeling of having the mass there has subsided but I know something is still there, it just may have shrunk and I'm grateful for that.  It's a beautiful day and people are in a shopping mood.  Not me, just thankful I'm still here to shop another day.  

Still trying to get my bedroom dark, putting in foam board in that upper window today.  Can't sleep unless it's a cave in there.  I hope to get to the Post Office to mail out more family photographs I found and call my drummer friend today.  His home was recently robbed twice and he is an older gentleman that doesn't need this kind of stress.  I can hear his silky voice shaken by it.  I'm so sorry he got displaced during my latest sad news.  I was hoping to have him here for Thanksgiving dinner it just didn't turn out to be a good time for company.  Anyway, that's my news.   Hope all is well with you and you are getting your Christmas decorating done.   So grateful to be able to think of you, toast to you, and wish you well this holiday.  Here's to good health - Your health is your Wealth!

I am Radiant

I realize I have allowed some time to lapse since my last post.  I recently received about a dozen inquiries wondering if I am still blogging since there hasn't been any update.  I was surprised more than 3 people out there were even reading these rambling messages.  I'm very touched you are still interested and that I haven't completely grossed you out.

My last radiation treatment was October 12th.  I was back to work on the 15th.  On that day, I found that my dance friend John Compton passed away of AIDS, the night before at 10pm.  I had met John when I first started taking Jamila Salimpour's classes at the old Poultry Factory on Sansome Street in San Francisco.  Mark Bell, Europa, myself, and John used to hang out on the shipping dock in front of the building between classes.  We darted in and out of each other's lives over the next 40 years and his death just marked another blow of loss for me.  Seems this trend of bad luck and trouble just won't quit.

I made it through the move although most things are in still in boxes, I have what I need to maneouver around the house and it's functional.  I've also emptied the storage I've kept for over a decade and moved that into the house as well.  I came to Vegas with my car, a boombox to teach with, a few dance costumes and teaching togs, my computer and a small suitcase of clothes.  Since that time, I have either had things I owned in California come here in the trunks and carloads of others or replaced the things I had before.  I now own so much I am on the verge of becoming a hoarder!  It overwhelms me how much there is.  I've tried my best to be ruthless and toss out much of what is old, unused, unloved, broken, once trendy, or things just taking up space, but there is still so much everywhere.  If I had this in storage for 10 years and didn't miss it, I certainly won't miss it if I toss it now.  Cancer changes your view of material things as well.  These things aren't the items that are of importance to me any longer.  The relationships I have forged with very lovely and talented people are.  Losing John just made me want to gather all of them up in a bunch at once, hold them tight once more and remind them how very much I love each and every one of them and how they have greatly contributed to the richness of my life with so many wonderful experiences.  So, every chance I get I try to go through more of these boxes and sort through, tossing, donating and gathering into one place for others to own and love as I have.  I've started to place all of my dance things as well as Marliza Pons' into one room and plan to make it into a "store" to sell off my costumes, props and wonderful lifelong collection of all things Orientale.    It's a task that's a job all by itself.  It's also a marvel I have the energy to do this.

Once they told me they could no longer see my tumors, I no longer needed treatment, to go get a second opinion from my oncologist, I was cut loose.  Got a mug and a certificate for bravery that I made it through radiation.  Saw my oncologist and she also confirmed that she did not see any evidence of a tumor but did that mean that the cancer was gone?  She could only test with epithelial cell scrapings and I was too raw from radiation to do that testing right now.  She will keep me in surveillance mode and test again in the next three months.

I feel kind of spun out into limbo, no support group, no advice, just the strong urge to get back to healing and a normal life again.  The problem is, that cancer returned once before when I didn't expect it to, how can I be sure it won't happen again?  I can't.  Yet if I cycle on it, perhaps I'll manifest it.  So I've tried to distance myself from the thought of the ordeal and carry on as if it was all a bad dream.  Haven't wanted to talk about it let alone blog about it.  The symptoms persists and although I am a 1,000 times better every day I am further away from a day of radiation, I know what I am feeling and it is definitely a result of the radiation.  They can tell me all they want that I was only radiated in the pelvic area yet I still feel it in my joints, feel it in my skin, still smell it.  The most alarming new trouble spot is the pressure I feel in the bladder and rectum that has me going back to the doctor this Tuesday.  Please Doc, just check me out and assure me that nothing is there and nothing to worry about.  Tell me I have an over reactive imagination and I will get back to carrying on with a vengeance and renewed energy.

Thanksgiving is coming up in four days.  It has been one year since this nightmare began.  I have a LOT to be thankful for.  I have made it through to the other side of treatment as difficult as it was unscathed, tempered from the experience, and filled with renewed interest in all of the people that are connected to me in this life.  Thank you for helping me make it through with your love and encouragement.  So I urge you:  Gather your loved ones this holiday, hold them like it's the last time, and say I love you with all sincerity.   I know I will.

Upheaval

If things weren't completely out of my comfort zone enough, I have moved.  The movers came last week and moved all of the furniture to the new house, thankfully only about a mile away.  So glad it's a one story and no more stairs to deal with.  I did not have the energy to pack a lot of things by the time moving day arrived so they also packed for me.  I was lucky to have already made up labels for each room so I tagged the boxes as they filled them but as for the contents, I have no idea.

We hired a group of guys, displaced construction workers from Hawaii who own their own business now.  They came prepared with shrink wrap, moving blankets, and dollies.  We just had to rent the truck.  We were fortunate not to have an option to get a smaller one, we made the move in one trip.  I like giving work to deserving people.  I sing the praises of Big Boys Moving Labor.  Message me and I will give you their number if you are local to Las Vegas.   You also get what you pay for.  They worked for almost 6 hours like slave labor, always laughing, never complaining or judgmental.  And yes, we bought them lunch, tipped them big and bought them beer at the end of the day.  Only one drank anyway and that is only during Monday night Football so he was really stoked.  So what am I in such upheaval about?  They moved the boxes and just put them anywhere in the house.  Not in the rooms they were labeled for mind you, just in the house.  There are heavy boxes I will never be able to lift all over the place.  What didn't fit in the garage or in the den, just went anywhere - and they are everywhere.  If I didn't have the energy to pack, I certainly don't have it to lift boxes to find other boxes, move furniture or unpack.  Fortunately, we moved things by carloads prior to them coming for the furniture so I am able to shower and know where my clothes are.  I was able to do all of this around my radiation schedule.  There's nothing like being in total chaos and not able to get off the couch to do a thing about it.  At least the couch was empty so I could use it and I had cable so I could watch my beloved Masterpiece Theatre or HGTV and drool over the Property Brothers.  (Counting each and every blessing here!)

Going through radiation is difficult to say the least but being without internet is just like enduring another symptom.  I must have moved to a location where the cell tower has a weak signal and my phone would either not connect or have horrible service.  I was talking to people where entire parts of conversations were missing.  I had received a new phone and an iPad for my birthday last month and found I could connect sporadically but was not able to reply to anyone.  The house is just about a minute from closing so they are asking us to sign and return every document we ever signed previously but I have no way to scan and send it back.  Had to drive over to locations all over town to do that, meet their demands and get back to that empty couch in the middle of chaos.

I've heard from a few people who are warriors with me that their internal treatments went far worse than mine.  They have endured horrific repercussions from the radiation that fried their insides, outsides, and still suffer symptoms long after the ordeal.  They assure me that I will get through this, I have no doubt, I made it through the death of my son.  Sadly, that experience will leave me with symptoms and scars the rest of my life also that doesn't even compare.  I feel lucky as I count my blessings that I have endured so much, the worst is almost behind me and that I have the time off to heal albeit not without stress.  Today is my husband's birthday.  I want to treat him like a king to let him know how much I appreciate him quietly enduring all of my misfortune but I have missed the mark.  The sale of the house, timing of my paycheck, the hectic schedule of the move in between radiation appointments have left him in second, possibly third or fourth place.  I am filled with emotion and want to cry as I feel my efforts are inadequate to show him how much he means to me at this time and my last minute plans are not enough.  I always read articles that mention the caregivers who are constantly and continuously there for the ones who fight.  They are the ones closest to you going through it, feeling it blow by blow.  Cancer affects everyone who loves you and cares for you.  I got mad love for all of you who continually pray and send me healing thoughts.  I have huge gratitude for you rallying around me in another difficult time in my life and will forever be in your debt.

The Internal Treatments

I'm not just a little scared, I'm terrified.  I know it's out of my control so I can't worry about it.  I've already committed myself to go.  I saw the radiologist last Friday.  He said he could see both tumors.  One is already gone and the original one is now flat.  That just means that if it had 9 billion cancer cells when it was protruding, it now has only a billion.  I feel much better, thanks.

My alarm didn't go off.  It's after 8am and I have to be in the middle of town by 9:30.  I go in to the bathroom and look at myself in the mirror.  I look weird.  My husband is awake and walks past me.  I tell him I look weird and that I'm getting in the shower.  It's a beautiful morning.  I'm running around the house trying to remember what they told me about what to bring.  I have to see the finance officer, grab a couple videos - funny ones?  Should I be laughing?  Can I shake?  What if they don't have Blue Ray?  I'm just wasting time now.  I plug in my iPhone to charge, grab a Town Called Panic and The Fountain, a plum and head for the car.  I don't really want to go.  I told you this already, didn't I?  I get to the hospital, check in and within 5 minutes we are back in the original CT scan room this all started in two months ago.  The nurse/tech, Jose, tells me to get undressed, put this stretchy belt around my waist with a tail hanging down in back and have a seat on the table.   He comes in with a clipboard with a waiver for me to sign.  I am reading every word and start asking questions.  "What unusual complications did you tell me about?"  Jose gets a nervous look on his face and says he'll get the doctor to explain.  The radiologist comes in and tells me that this is the standard form to cover them from all the things that could or may happen, that we've discussed everything - basically sign the damn thing and let's get on with it. He tells me he'll be back in with his nurse in a moment.

They come in and my husband leaves.  I have forgotten the FMLA paperwork for them to sign so I can get approval to be off the next two weeks.  He's going to head back home and get them.  They tell me that this will take 2 hours while a team of people map exactly where the radiation should go.  They have to be sure it doesn't come near my colon or bladder and just reach this tiny little area.  I ripped the X's off that were on the tape that have marked my hips for weeks while I did external radiation on the day I finished.  Turns out they don't need those marks anymore.  They will scan me with the cylinder inside and do the measurements.  He announces that he is inserting the cylinder, I feel a pressure and I my voice goes really high for a moment and then it's in.   He teases me that I yelped.  They leave the room discussing another child patient and I'm alone.  I'm in the Stargate ring once again.  I hear a voice telling me they are about to start, not to move.  I close my eyes and visualize a perfect treatment, it's painless, no symptoms, the cancer will be eradicated from my body..... I can feel I am moving back through the ring and moving in and out while they scan the pelvis.  It's over in a few minutes.  They tell me they will have a team move me onto a gurney, into a waiting room and this is where I can watch a DVD, listen to my iPod, play with my iPad or read a magazine.  This may take up to an hour or longer.  The team comes in and I apologize for being so fat.  One guy tells me that you wouldn't believe how light a person becomes when there are 6 people lifting all at once.  They take the edges of the sheet, align the gurney and quickly transfer me to it.  I can still feel someone shaking like they are struggling to lift.  Gotta head to a gym when this is over.

I'm wheeled down the hall.  As many times as they must do this, they still bang the walls when they go through the doorways and they apologize for all the bumps we have to go over.  I can see rooms as I pass by, technicians looking at xrays and adjusting machines.  It's like some intense ward in a hospital except this is the medical building across from the hospital.  I had no idea what was behind these doors.  I'm in this small waiting room with a TV, a chair and a table filled with magazines and DVDs.  I ask the tech to put in the DVD I brought.  She puts in Town called Panic and places my things on the chair.  It's in French but subtitled but I wonder what they must think as they pass by the room I'm in.  If you haven't seen the movie, it's kinda like claymation.  It's just silly but I need it to help me pass the time and not think about what is coming next. 

Not sure how long I am in the room.  The radiologist comes by and pokes his head in, asks how I am doing and says that we will be going in soon.  I let him know I am fine.  I doubt it's even been an hour, maybe twenty minutes and Jose is back.  He says we are ready to go for treatment.  He grabs all of my things, puts them below the gurney and wheels me down another hallway and into a room.  A large machine is in there.  It almost looks like a storage room.  There is a boom box playing some rock station.  The lights are rudely on and I am just left there.  I realize how my external radiation technicians, Kevin and Karen, at my other treatment location, treated me like a Princess.  They made sure the lights were low, had my ring ready for my hands, asked me if the volume was good or if I wanted it louder, came by me and touched my hands to let me know they were ready to start and were leaving the room.  None of that here.  Cattle Call.  Jose comes in to tell me he will be hooking up the catheter to the cylinder.  This is how the radiation is fed to the tube.  He says we will start soon.  Another guy comes in with what looks like a Geiger counter and sweeps a wand over my body.  He never says a word, looks at the machine and leaves.  Brave man.  The room falls silent.  I focus in on the music.  I know this song.  I start singing along in my head.  Wish I had asked them to play my mediation CD or to pump up the volume on this song.  I can hear or maybe I feel this sound as the radiation fills the cylinder.  The lights are so bright. I wish they had arranged for Kevin to come and be with me today, I am so scared as to how my body is going to react to this phase of treatment.  I'm sure they weren't going to pull him out of his location just to soothe a frightened patient but it would have been really nice.   I miss being the Princess.  They announce two minutes more.  I'm a bit taken back.  Has 10 minutes really gone by?  I've only sang one song and it wasn't Innagaddadavida by Iron Butterfly.  I'm back in the waiting room, the radiologist nurse comes in to remove the cylinder, tells me my next appointment is set up and to stop by and see the finance officer before I go.  The guy comes back with the Geiger counter and waves the wand over me.  Maybe it's magic and he is taking all the cancer away. 

I hope my husband is back but I don't see him.  I head to the lobby where the finance office is.  I call my husband and he is shocked that I am done.  He's found the paperwork and is headed back to get me.  I make a payment and we are chit-chatting and wow, he's there!  Okay!  What a morning, everything moving much faster that I expected.  We stop for some breakfast even though it's noon and head home.  I feel a heaviness in my body, I have to lay down a while.  Watching TV, I'm checking in on my body and how I am feeling.  I can sense the radiation traveling up my body.  That feeling of it in my throat is back again.  They can tell me all they want that I don't experience these things but I do.  Think it's time to take a nap and stop being suspicious of what's going on in my body.

Devil Claw Marks

I wanted to share what happened to me last Tuesday.  I go to get a check up every other week from a doctor who resides at the location of my treatment.  I see the nurse first, she takes some vitals then the doctor comes in to discuss.  She was asking about how my skin was.  I told her that it's very dry to begin with but that I noticed that there were patches I've found that don't even feel like my skin anymore, very dry, like it's burnt.  She tells me it's from the radiation and that she is going to get me some samples to try.  She brings in a large tube of some gel and several sample packages of this cream called XClair.  She explains it's for the dryness, I can use it anywhere and I can even combine them.  I see the doctor, we discuss the drying skin patches and the rest of my ailments and I'm done.

That evening, my husband and I go out to dinner.  We go to Carraba's for an Italian dinner, I have soup, salad and the main entree, it even comes with a small sample size dessert in a little shot glass.  Delicious, except that I feel like I've just had Thanksgiving dinner and we are both stuffed to the gills.  I have that food intoxication come over me and I have to go right upstairs to bed.  I pass out for a few hours and wake up sometime past 11pm.  I'm lying there in a sleepy stupor and notice my lower back is on fire.  I grab the gel and rub some on, struggle with getting the little sample pack open and rub that in too.  The nurse said I could use them together.  I'm laying on my back watching the tv, hoping it will bore me back to sleep but the fire on my back keeps heating up.  My husband comes up to the bedroom and as he enters I ask him to flip on the light and take a look at my back.  I explain I just put the lotion on they gave me today but it's still burning.  I turn over and he immediately asks, "Were you scratching this area?"  I told him no, I was sleeping on my back, just rolled over and put the lotions on.  He asks me if I want to go to emergency hospital.  Now I am feeling a bit alarmed and I ask him why.  He says it looks like those paranormal shows when the entity scratches you.  I yell, "WHAT?!"  and jump up to check it out in the bathroom mirror.  As I rush past him, he tells me the scratch marks are climbing up my back.  I have no idea why I didn't ask him to take a photo of it.  I know I didn't scratch it but there are welts all over my lower back that looks just like the devil's claw. 

When I go into radiation the next day, they all want me to drop my trousers in the lobby so they can look at it (like it's still there or something) but it's gone and I look like a grouchy, whiny old lady complaining about every ache and pain.  I had no intention of taking off my pants at their request in the lobby no matter how excited they were to look at my bum.  They don't see a thing, it's not even red, and I am still in that category of "Patient with weird side effects no one has ever had before but her".  Needless to say, I am now terrified of the lotions and refuse to use them.  Must have had an allergic reaction.  Ahhh, the joy of having cancer.  Never know what's going to happen next.

Sadistic Chemists!

Here is my pelvic radiation tip for the day:  Tuck's Medicated Wipes!  You can get a box or the handy travel packs.  Who knew they weren't just for hemorrhoids, I certainly didn't.  Just like having an ice cream after a fiery hot dinner, these cooling little wipes do the trick instantly.

So, I mentioned in one of my last posts that I finally got the doctor to listen to me and prescribe something for the diarrhea, right?  Well, I finally go and get that prescription filled.  When I pick it up, you have to have this consultation with the pharmacist so that you understand how to take it and what symptoms to expect for allergic reactions.  I head over to the consultation window and meet with the pharmacist.  I know him well so I feel comfortable.  Don't expect him to say much but take as needed with plenty of water and it will do the trick.  NO.  He tells me that it will make me drowsy, so not to take it if I am going to work, drive, or use heavy machinery.  Certainly won't be using that chain saw I just bought.....  I say, "Daniel, what kind of a sick chemist makes up a batch of pills to take for diarrhea that make you drowsy?  What if I fall asleep on the toilet or something?  I don't usually have diarrhea at night, I have it during the day.  But now I have to figure out a time I'd like to nap and take them?"  He replies, "Obviously a very sadistic chemist created these pills but it's my job to let you know the side effects."  I now take them at night and still have to deal with the diarrhea during the day.  So we are back to the Imodium and pray for relief.

On Friday, my husband and I go and give the deposits on the new ranch style house we will be moving into on the 21st of September.  In the blink of an eye, we give them 6 weeks of rent and a huge security deposit.  We'll do the walk-in inspection 10 days later and have two weeks to move in leisurely.  Gotta get myself in gear and start packing.  Been dug in this house like a tick for the last 6 years and there sure is a lot to go through.  Don't want to be taking junk to the new house I don't need or want.  There are boxes in the garage I have never unpacked from the original move here.  I still have the internal radiation treatments to go through and they will be the roughest.  I looked on the Internet for more testimony from others that have gone through it and their descriptions frightened the hell out of me.  I am still on the fence about doing them at all.  Although I do not want the cancer to come back, I do not want to do these treatments at all.  I already feel over-radiated and I am done with any more.  If the tumors are gone, I'm doing these for preventative measures.   Don't want to do them.

Later that night, I have tickets to a Bellydance Concert at the Jewel Box Theatre at the Flamingo Library.  It's the big local bellydance convention here and the first night of the headliner's dancing.  I have another bout of diarrhea and I don't think I am going to be able to make it.  I fight it for over an hour and when I realize I am at the final minutes of backing out or going, I decide to go ahead and get ready.  I have to hope the medication will finally kick in  -- or I just turn around and come back.  I throw on the cute little black dress and put on some make-up and I'm off.  I get to will call, get my ticket and easily find my friends waiting for me.  I'm sitting smack dab in the center seat in the middle section of the  theatre.  Excellent view, but a long way to go if I have to use the restroom.  Everything goes well and I am able to enjoy the show without worry.  Was such a joy to be a spectator and not have that nagging feeling I am missing out by not being on the stage. 

I get home and my husband is all over me, telling me how sexy I look and how great it is to see me dressed up and in full dance make-up again.  So nice to feel desirable, too bad he's leaving for the gym.

Radical Hope

It's Labor Day today, September 3rd.  I've had an alright weekend not the most productive but at least I have got some packing done.  My husband mentioned we might be jumping the gun packing; the new house hasn't been approved and worst yet, I'm not even sure my short sale is complete.  I was sent a letter from my agent but it has never actually come from the bank.  I put it on my list of things to do on Tuesday. 

I keep checking in with myself and how my body is doing without radiation for 4 days and I am sorry to report that it isn't enough of a break.  Maybe a week would make a difference.  I have been really tired this weekend and just needed to sleep.  At least I am not feeling as physically bad as I did that second week.  So as I am contemplating my progress, I check my emails.  There is one from a friend who studied dance with me at UNLV.  She is in the middle of filming Liberace at the LV Hilton this week and took the time to forward this newsletter from the Jung Center in Asheville, NC to send me positive thoughts.  She didn't point out which article to read but I noticed this one that piqued my interest called "Radical Hope:  The Healing Power of Illness".  It's for a lecture I cannot attend and it will not be streamed live but what I did glean out of the ad for the lecture validates my thoughts about how something good is going to come out of all of this for me. My feeling is that I will discover some non-profit to start like my angel did or some other work will grab me and spin me into high gear with it's purpose.  I'm going to put those words here since I know many of you may not want to follow the link to the Center.

How can illness be the healing path?
"This path opens us to possess the courage we need to accept reality, leave the role of victim behind, and step forward as a seeker.  It can facilitate our medical treatment, sometimes being a cure, and help us to realize that healing isn't about staying alive.  Rather, healing is about becoming who we are meant to be, living our potentials and moving closer to our authentic selves.  Finding meaning in our darkest moments so that new life and creativity can emerge.

For what then counts and matters to bear witness to the uniquely human potential at its best, which is to turn one's predicament into a human achievement...... suffering can have meaning if it changes us for the better."   Vicktor Frankl, Man's Search for Meaning

This is what I hope for myself and the others who may be reading this searching for answers.  It validates and gives a loud answer to my cry to the heavens:  Why me?

When it Rains it Pours

It's almost the end of August.  I have had another two radiation sessions.  Every other week on Tuesdays, I have to go into Sunrise Hospital and see my radiologist for a check-up.  My stomach is so upset I am not even sure if I can make it to his office without stopping at every McDonald's along the way for a pit stop.  I make it in, they put me in a room but my stomach won't wait.  I dash across the hall.  The nurse comes in to tell me he is going to want to do a pelvic exam.   I tell her this is not a good day but we can try.  The doctor comes in and we talk about my progress.  I ask him if he can hear my stomach gurgling from where he is standing and he says yes.  I have been complaining about this for some time but they said to just take massive amounts of Immodium and I'll be fine.  I told him I've already taken 3 this morning and nothing is stopping it.  He finally says he is going to write a prescription for me.  Finally - relief is on the way!

He sits down with the miner's hat with the light on and takes a look.  He tells me that the second tumor is still gone and that the first is now the size of the head of a matchstick.  What great news.  He tells me to get dressed and comes back in the room.   "Just want to let you know that you have still one month to go.  You'll get 3 days off with the Labor Day holiday, then only four more external treatments left.  Then we will start the internal treatments."   My heart just sinks.  I don't want another day of radiation.  I know it's for my own good and for my future health but I just feel I can't take any more.  Enough with the non-stop annoying symptoms tearing at my positive attitude. We talk a bit about it and he says that it would be best if when we get to the internal treatments to take the time off from work, the less stress the better.  I explain to him that in the mix of all of this, I have gotten approval for the short sale on my house and I am going to have to be out of my house by the end of September.  How am I ever going to find the energy to be able to pack up my house and get it ready for the new owners?  I find a solution for one problem only to find another challenge. 

My friend Susan recently sent me a private message and I am going to use her words just to keep me going:
"It seems like perfect symmetry; the end of radiation and the move to a new home (beginning). One day at a time."  She's right.  Still, there is one more month to go and it will be the hardest challenge yet.

Gifted by an Angel

People going through pelvic radiation, let me give you a warning:  Never eat spicy food!  Resist the temptation to go for Indian, Mexican, Cajun anything that has the word spicy or hot in it.  Do not use the Tabasco or cayenne pepper or even the little packets of sauce they give you with tacos on your food.  I am your friend and I warn you, do not eat SPICY food!  There is my public service announcement for the day.

Another week of radiation came and went.  I made it through another 5 days although I was thinking the entire week I was going to play hooky on Friday, I went anyway.  Monday I almost made it through the entire day at work.  The fatigue really got to me and I left a half hour early.  Tuesday, I left by 3:30pm.  Again the fatigue took me down hard.  On Wednesday, the smells overcame me and I started to get so nauseated.  It was a helacious schedule at work and the worst possible time for me to go but I had to.  I almost puked in public.  I could smell every one's soap, the hazelnut creamer by the coffee machine, the carpet, the smell of rain in the air.....  I wasn't sick until the smells overpowered me.  I left for my radiation appointment that day with it raining so hard the windshield wipers could barely clear it off for me.  I was driving the freeway at 35mph.  Every intersection was flooded.  Hadn't seen monsoon rain like that in a decade.  I know we desperately need it.  By the time I made it to the building, I could have used a kayak to get to the front door.  Opened the umbrella over the open door to step out only to get drenched, stepped into ankle deep water and my shoes filled.  Didn't see the elderly lady that comes in right after me.  I got a little worried and hoped she was okay.  So hard to see someone so frail doing radiation at her age.  Went right home and never returned to work.  Instead, I slept all day.  Thursday I made it to my appointment again and then never made it back to work.  It's getting harder and harder to make it in to work each day.  I keep coming like a faithful dog because I am afraid that no one will be able to make it without my help, not know where I am at with things I have left in mid-stream.   I know the day is coming soon.   I am just going to need to take the entire time off and just stay home and heal.  I made it through Friday's appointment without playing hooky only because of this delicious carrot dangling over my head.

 

I mentioned in an earlier post about the woman that was paired up with me by the Imerman Angels who started the non-profit, Heavens Door Open.  Well, she sent me an email on my birthday (she didn't know it was my birthday!) saying she would like to arrange to send me to a spa.  She looked at a few and settled on this beautiful spa in Lake Las Vegas in Henderson called the Ravella Spa.  It was just the Ritz-Carlton a few years ago.  Lake Las Vegas is fashioned after Tuscany without the grape fields.  It's just beautiful out there and one of my favorite places to hang out for a day, grab lunch, and window shop.  I pull in to the front of the hotel and the valet's take my car.  I ask where the spa is located and they point to this building a distance away closer to the entrance.  I'm thinking about asking them to drive me there but off I go, past the beautiful fountain in the center (See photo above)to the spa entrance and go in.  It also houses the gym and the entrance to the outdoor pool and beach area. 

I approach the front desk, the girl is on her cellphone.  She tells me their computers are down and it takes a moment to find someone that can pull up the appointment, take me downstairs to the Ladies Spa, get me a robe and show me how to use the lockers.  I go to the Relaxation Room to wait.  They have honeydew melon water, so hydrating!  I drink two glasses.  A few minutes later my attendant comes in to let me know that because I am late she can give me a massage but will not have time to do my entire treatment. I am feeling that if someone else paid for me to have a special spa treatment, I doubt she would want me to settle for a massage I usually get every month anyway.  I ask her to reschedule me, I'm local, I can come back anytime.  She checks and says there is an opening at 5pm.  She tells me if I'd like to wait and use the beach, pool, or spa amenities, I can stay here.  I wasn't prepared with a suit or towel to partake in the beach so I tell her I'll go home, get some things done and return later. 

So glad I did.  I'm there in plenty of time to use the wet sauna and open my pores.  I take a nice shower with all of their lovely skin products and rinse the toxins off.   When I go to the treatment room I lay face down, and she gets started with exfoliating my skin with this chocolate oil and coffee grounds, scrubbing every part of me well.  She leaves and I get up to use the shower.  Grounds are behind my ears and between my toes!  I am face down again as she starts in with the warm shea butter made from goats milk and rubs it into my skin leaving what feels like a quarter inch of it on the surface.  Then she covers my feet with wet warm towels, my legs, my torso and bundles me up into a cocoon.  I cook this way for another twenty minutes with a warm towel over my eyes.  This is the one time my nose serves me well and allows all this wonderful aroma to delight me.  I feel like a tamale!  She comes back and unwraps me, I put on my robe and go back upstairs to the Healing Waters.  I am thinking the dry sauna is the best way to end the day, take a hot tub, the cold plunge and take another shower.  The dry sauna is probably off due to me being the last customer.  It's almost 7pm.  We take some photos together and I head upstairs to the front desk.  The girl up there was checking on the concert tonight in the ampitheatre for me.  She told me my bill was completely take care of - even the tip!   I take a quick cruise around the gift shop and go outside and head to valet.  The sky is a wonderful orange sunset and I can hear the mc announcing the jazz concert about to start.  What an amazing day.  I wish I could treat everyone to a day like this. 

Over-radiated

The people at 21st Century Oncology are so good to me!   The techs really go out of their way to ensure I have a pleasant experience, which they know in my heart is not.  They are well aware of my resistance to the procedure, show genuine concern for me and always try to make me feel welcome and comfortable.  I endure the next 5 days of treatment, my first full week.  The doses increase daily but I'm still not sure I notice anything but the diarrhea.  That was the first indication and it came almost immediately after the first doses.  Thought it was just the change going from a raw diet to a meat based one again.  When I check in with my body, it tells me my back is out, it feels like my right hip joint feels off in the crotch area.  I tell one of the techs that if I was a Barbie doll, maybe we should take that leg off and put it back on again.  Maybe it will reset itself and I'll feel better again.  I feel this burning sensation when I pee.  It's not like a bladder infection.  It's more like if you got a very bad sunburn and your skin is on fire and you need to smother yourself in aloe vera - that kind of burn.  My butt burns too and I am very thankful I bought and installed a portable bidet and got lots of chemical safe wet wipes for my skin.  They can't seem to make soft, fluffy toilet paper to my liking.  Cotton balls would probably work better if they were larger and more absorbent.  Once I have my treatment and I head back to work, the first thing I notice is my hip aches.  Nothing much, but that maybe I need to see my chiropractor.  I make an appointment to see him.  It does make a difference. I have dull headaches and never had them much before.  I don't sleep that well anymore, sometimes I can't fall asleep, other times I fall right out only to wake a short time later and can't fall back to sleep.  I get that new zzzquil and it helps.

To add to the excitement of the weekend, it's also my birthday.  I'm having one of those years that I don't feel like celebrating.  I just want it low key, get me the gift I asked for and move on.  It's just another day.  I know I should be thankful I've lived another productive year, but seems that the cancer makes everything fun take a back seat.  My husband is not deterred.  He tells me to go to my appointment and come right back.  He worked the night before and came in late so he still needs to sleep.  I had the day planned to go get my hair done and get a pedicure.  Not sure of what he needed, I came right back.  He told me to change into something comfortable and we took off for the Mob Museum.  (I have only been asking for months for him to take me.)  We have to wait in line to get our tickets and it's so freaking hot outside - the hottest day of the summer so far - and it drags the energy out of me and there's a moment I'm not sure I can stand long enough to get the tickets.  The line moves quickly, we get them then have to wait while the guide puts our wristbands on and talks to us.  Little things like this take up energy I just don't have any more.  Don't want to be rude, just please point us to the elevator and move to the next group.  But I'm not like that, I suck it up and let him chat. You start at the top floor and move your way down.  As we enter and get our first photo op at the line up, I notice this smell.  My husband mentioned it too so I'm not completely crazy.  Don't know what it is but it's not Fabreeze.  My nose is in a hyper-sensitive state and I can smell everything like a super human. They could probably use me like a hound in a missing person's case.  Not sure if all this stuff is so old it carries that kind of smell, if someone around us didn't wash, or if the place is so new that you can still smell some kind of construction scent.  I can bear it the first hour but after that we start rushing through the exhibits.  I miss the Kennedy assassination video and a lot of the Hollywood and the mob connection.  It's definitely some kind of chemical smell and we leave quickly before I get nauseous.  We can always come back.

We leave and go to the Mirage to get tickets to the Beatles Love by Cirque du Soleil.  I still don't feel like I am going to have the energy to enjoy it so I arrange to have someone who would like to go come pick them up from us.  We go back home so I can nap.  There is still time before we head to the movies to see Bourne Legacy opening today.   After that we were supposed to head back downtown to the Wynn's La Cave.  I'm really not feeling like heading back down to the Strip, my energy is really draining fast.  I am still hungry so we settle on sushi and head over to a restaurant nearby with teppan cooking and tatami rooms called Osaka.  A wonderful dinner, beautiful surroundings, a piano bar and delicious food.  I come back home and open all my presents.  It's a wonderful night and just how I wanted to spend it, doing just as much as my body would allow.

The next day I am worse.  My husband leaves for work and I become a total couch potato, TV is on and I doze all day.  No energy to clean or get ready for another work week.  The pain I was feeling in my bladder and colon are worse, the burning is really bad.  I take the next two days off from work but continue to go to my radiation appointments.   On Tuesday, it's my doctor check-in day.  I tell the techs how I am feeling this day.  They tell me to go right to my appointment and let the doctor know.  I'm sure he could see the look on my face as I explain to him the pain is too much.  I am about to burst into tears and tell him I am going to bolt.  I've had enough.  Every time I sit down I can feel this huge mass, like a ball the size of my fist and it really hurts worst when I stand up again.  I can't take it anymore.  I tell him it feels like my bladder will fall right out of me.  He says he would like to examine me. 

He and the nurse come back in.  He puts on the mining hat that has the light in the center and takes a look.  I hear the surprise in his voice, "The smaller one is gone and the original tumor has shrunk by half!"  This is very good news.  He asks me to get dressed and he'll come back in.  He tells me that he is going to give me the next 3 days off and with the weekend that will be 5 days without radiation.  A sense of relief comes over me.  He says by next Monday I will be feeling like a million bucks.  Try a half dollar but okay, I'll take the reprieve from radiation.  He says that we can't lose what we've done thus far and he can't give me any longer than that.  Like a bad loan, I know he may have to tack the days I lost on the end but I don't ask.  I just want to leave and start my radiation vacation.

Radiation begins

I have a few more days of freedom before the radiation actually begins.  I plan out a wonderful weekend with my friend who is in town.  We go and catch a matinee of Moonrise Kingdom, what a delightful yet quirky movie packed with stars and nostalgia.  We were elbowing each other throughout the movie saying, "I remember that" or "my parents had that set in the house".  We go over to iHop and have lunch.  The doctor says that I should start eating a slab of meat once in a while along with some fish as it will help with the diarrhea and eating all fiber will not.  I take it this gives me permission to eat crappy once again and I go and have the big breakfast - buttermilk pancakes, eggs, hash browns.  Only a month ago I would have turned my nose up at food like this and today it's heavenly.

I bring my children's book in for her to read.  I have finally finished it after 35 years (yes, I don't do things on the fly you know) and it's ready to go to the Library of Congress to get registered and receive my ISBN number.  She gets to the dedication page and breaks into tears.  She loves it and turns every page reading and looking at the pictures like a child.  I was glowing.  So wonderful to share in a creation with a friend that loves it as much as you.  She has a bag of things to give to me, the most wonderful adult styled children's book called "The Guardians of Being" by Ekhardt Tolle, I will cherish forever.  We make plans to meet on Sunday for massages at the Nevada School of Massage. It's a two for one clinic and we both get the best massages of our lives!  It's off to Mimi's Cafe for lunch then to a girl's house on the other side of town to do my hair and make up for a photo shoot.  We get there late because she has slept in.  It takes way too long to get everything done, run out of time and we have to leave.  It's been a very special weekend and really takes my mind off of what I am going to be doing on Wednesday.

I try not to think too much about it the next two days, no more searching for answers and cures.  I have to walk in bravely and just do it.  I get there in plenty of time, sign in and have a seat.  They have a huge Thomas Kincaid puzzle on a table in the corner.   I sit down over there and study the painting and the progress.  Gotta stop thinking about what's going to happen to me next.  One of the therapists opens the door and says, "Are you ready?"  My knee jerk reaction is to think silently, "Are you insane?  Ready?!  Really?  Who's ready for radiation?  It's not like I am next in line for a ride at Disneyland!"  I smile and say "Sure."  I follow her back.  There is some smell in the hallway.  I don't know what it is but I think it's burning flesh.  I get all the way to the back down long halls and I see Kevin from my mapping appointment and I feel a lot more relaxed when I see him.  He's this young, good looking Filipino guy with this overgrown semi mohawk.  Looks like every Asian, skater dude in the Bay Area wearing tight pants with the chain wallet in a hoodie carrying a skateboard.  But he's in scrubs but still has the legs akimbo stance. We greet each other and I immediately feel more comfortable.  He has the table ready with my blue leg holder pillow and a rubber head cradle on yet another huge machine in a dark, spa lit room.  They place a nice clean sheet down so the table isn't cold.  I pull down my pants, swing around onto the table and they cover my yoni with a small white square of paper.  They make a lot of adjustments using the marks on my dancing hips and sacred vessel.  I feel the table move here and there and I am all lined up. They have this small boombox playing some crappy radio station of music I don't really care for but at least I can try to focus on anything but what's coming next.  I tell Kevin that I know that the doctor said I would be getting very low doses and that they will be building up over the course of the next few weeks.  I ask if he could please cut that dose in half and it can be our little secret.  He smiles like he is going to give in to my request then says, "Ahhhhhh no" and shakes his head.

They give me a small comfort ring to hold to keep my hands still across my chest.  They let me know they can hear and see me and not to worry, to call out to them if I need to.  The sides of the machine close in next to me.  There is a top and bottom portion and all these things rotate around me.  "The Plan" knows exactly where to radiate me based on the mapping.   I hear whirring and movement and I go into a meditative state and start to pray.  Guide their hands and oversee their calculations, let the dose kill the cancer and leave the rest alone and undamaged.  I have my eyes closed but I hear the sound when the radiation is given.  Just like getting an x-ray, this sound goes off for 10 seconds four times, each time the machine rotates around me, stops and gives me another dose - from the back, the front, the sides.  Then one of the techs comes in and puts in this plate that angles the beam to the exact location and I get two more doses, each about 12 seconds.  I hear the door which is literally 12 inches thick, open and they come in.  It's all over.  They pull me out from the machine, help me to a sitting position, and Kevin says to me, "Hey are you crying?"  I pull up my pants and put on my shoes.  I explain that I could feel my son very strongly in the room with me.  I let them know he died recently and I'm still not over it.  I complain about the crappy music and Kevin says he will request another one for me and I can bring in my own music to play if I like.  I tell them I'll see them tomorrow and the next few days go just like that.  I don't notice much difference, just like getting a prolonged xray.  Three days are down out of the twenty-five external treatments.  Still feeling good, healthy, still doing Zumba.

Somebody get me a compass, I'm getting mapped!

Exactly one month from when I originally refused treatment, I am back at the radiologist's office.  It is also my 9 year American wedding anniversary.  (I was married in Morocco the year before this.)  My husband goes with me.  Such a romantic way to celebrate - not!  I see the doctor, we discuss all my fears once again so my husband can hear them first hand.  I want to know if we can still have sex, if the radiation will affect him and cause him to have two heads or if he will have glow-in-the-dark penis if we do, long term affects of radiation to my body, the short term affects, vaginal shrinking, nutrition, the damage to my bladder and colon, the duration of the entire treatment.  He tells me it will be 5 weeks of daily treatments and 3 weeks of internal, those being 2 hours or more each visit.  He goes out and gets this dildo looking thing with a tube on the end the radiation will go into.  He tries to make it all better by saying I can bring in a dvd of my favorite movie!  Great, how humiliating it is to be sitting with your pants off on a table, now I have to be observed with a radiation dildo in me for two hours also.  Why not bring in porn?!  We listened to his explanations to all my questions and his orders to have as much sex as possible - it's a "use it or lose it" situation.  If there is too much shrinkage, he will prescribe a vaginal stretching dildo to take home with me and use in the privacy of my own home.  So surprised to hear that isn't another task the technicians are going to do for me. I am given a gown and taken to the back.  I meet the technicians, Rina and Kevin. 

I am laying down in yet another Stargate looking machine while they move around the room doing this and that.  So many other things I wish I was doing at this very moment than this.  I don't want radiation, don't know how these thoughts effects the treatment if I am so negative about it.  Kevin comes in to explain he is going to "map" me so that they can radiate only the specific area they will be targeting.  He tells me he will be tattooing me with three little dots.  I tell him my son was one of the best tattoo artists on the West Coast and I wouldn't let him put one dot on me - let alone three - and now I am willingly submitting to these tattoos that will always be a reminder of this very day.  They mark my dancing hips and my sacred vessel with tiny black dots that look like moles.  Good thing I have freckles everywhere.  They blend right in.  They also bring in a large blue pillow and place it under my feet, ask me to get real comfy and they blow up the bag and it hardens.  It will hold my legs in place and keep me still during my treatments.  They lube up a tampon and let me know they will be inserting it to take measurements.  I'm laughing and joking with them the entire time as I am fully embarrassed by the process.  Little did I know they can hear and see everything outside the room and my husband is waiting behind this curtain in the hallway, listening to every word I say.  He tells me the doctor comes by and observes me behind the curtain in the hallway.  Fortunately no one can see me but they can hear every crazy comment I make.  Hey, why not make their job fun?  I'm sure they deal with freaked out patients all day long.  I'm not getting treated today, this is only the preliminary stuff and they assure me treatment will go much quicker than it took to map me.  I decide on a location and they check on a time for my daily appointment in an office location closer to my work.  I was hoping to do it around 4pm each day and go home from there, maybe take a little nap then get up and cook dinner.  The office closest to my job is only open until noon so I have to take a 10:30 appointment and would be back to work by 11am.  Oh well.   I'll take it as my lunch and still be back to cover my co-workers when they leave for lunch.  I'm all set.  I start next Wednesday with very low external doses building up over the next 5 weeks. 

I'm walking down the hallway with my folders of information, my appointment card, and wave goodbye.  I feel defeated that I have to do this and not fight it like I want and should on my own.  I feel I can beat this, it's two teensy, weensy tumors for goodness sake.  I settle in for a fight of a different kind.  I'm still anxious and scared of what's to come next week but for right now all I want is the next few hours with my husband at dinner, discussing our wonderful wedding and reception 9 years ago and the real reason I fight.  We have an Italian dinner close to home at a restaurant overlooking the Vegas Valley.  We watch the sunset and all the lights come up.  No more discussions tonight about cancer.