How Radiation Affected My Vision

No, I don't see everything through a green glow.

It's now been nearly a week since I completed my radiation treatment and this first "down time" in 6 and 1/2 weeks has allowed me to reflect on the experience.

By first appearance, the radiation oncology waiting room looks to be a very plain, ordinary, and even dull place. But don't let this first impression fool. This is actually one of the most powerful places you will ever enter. It is hallowed ground where lives are lost or regained. Social standings, age, race, gender, rank are all meaningless and perhaps nearly invisible. This is a place where all who enter are equal. On any given day you can't swing a saline drip without hitting someone with some type of cancer. Other days the only place in America that may have more women who have had breast augmentation in some way is Hollywood.

I spent a portion of every day of the past 6 and 1/2 weeks in that waiting room. Some days my wait would be no longer 2 to 3 minutes. Other days I waited for 4 hours to receive my treatment due to equipment malfunctions. Everyone of those days I was greeted by Joe, the receptionist, who was a constant ray of sunshine in what otherwise may have been a dreary place. She was like our radiation cheerleader.

I've seen the heavy-eyed look of fatigue and heard the raspy, weak voices caused by radiation burns of the throat. I've seen patients walk in one day and have to be wheeled in the next. I've experienced the kindness of those who are strangers for merely minutes. I have seen patients start their treatment and I have seen patients finish their treatment. I've seen celebration and sadness, as I too shared in their victories and shortfalls. I've seen hope. I've seen love. I've seen life, unedited and raw. I've seen a type of equality amongst people that I have never experienced before.

There, in that radiation oncology waiting room, people faced the most devastating and difficult times of their lives but yet no one complained. No one was bitter, or angry or wallowing in self pity. For the most part, other than perhaps 2 people I briefly came in contact with, these cancer patients proved to be so much more than just a patient, or better yet a survivor. They too were warriors while all the while displaying tremendous positive attitudes. These were among the most amazing people I have ever had the honor of meeting.

And all of it, every detail of those 6 and 1/2 weeks amazes me.

Results of the Final Day of Radiation; The Power of a Survivor

After 34 treatments, one every day for the past 6 and 1/2 weeks this was my last day. The day didn't necessarily feel any different starting off or on my way to treatment. Not much was different once I arrived at the clinic, although I was beginning to feel some excited energy.

I changed into my gown, laid on the table and assumed the position as I had 33 times before. Once on the table I again, just as every other time, entered my zone. I was aware that Will was in the room taking photos to document this important part of my journey and I heard what to me were muffled voices between him and the technicians. They exited the room, the door closed, and my final dose of radiation began.

It was then, within those very seconds that the significance of this particular moment sank in and as it did, my tears began to flow. It was a sweet surrender. My treatments, my actual treatments for this cancer were over and I could now begin to rebuild and restrengthen my body and reclaim a big portion of my life.

My tears were unlike any I had shed before, but then again, everything about this journey has been a new experience and has touched the depths of my soul.

Within minutes my final radiation treatment was over.  Over!  But not my tears of joy and relief.

It's a tradition within Radiation Oncology to "ring the bell" when treatment is finally completed.   I walked up front to Jo's desk and vigorously rang the bell.   I hugged the staff that I had come to know and I cried even more.

As we drove home I knew that I wanted to capture everything about every ounce of emotion that was surging through my mind and body.   Words can not adequately express how I felt but I felt so strong, so powerful, and invincible.  Not immortal, but invincible, and that's what really matters.  I realized that day, within those moments, the accumulation of each and every moment leading up to that one, that I can do anything.  I can accomplish any task set before me, I can obtain any goal , and I can overcome any adversity that lay ahead of me. For the first time since my diagnosis, I felt the power of being a survivor.

When I got home, still feeling that power surging within me, I breathed into a decorative bottle and corked it, capturing the essence of the moment. Should I ever forget, get weak, disheartened or simply need a power boost, I will forever have that bottle. 

These boots are made for...

...kickin' some breast cancer booty! And I did! ;0) Here's to fighting like a girl and showing cancer just who the sissy is and who the boss is!!!

The Crown - How To (Scarf Wrapping)

I didn't often wear a scarf or hat and I never wore a wig while beautifully bald from chemo but on occasion when I did I was blessed enough to receive compliments on how I wore my scarf. Tying a scarf in a fashionable manner isn't as easy as you may think before the initial attempt so I searched online and found this "how to" which helped me. Hopefully someone else will find it useful also.
 
"This style of scarf-wrapping is named for the fact that it forms a fabric crown over the head. It is an elegant-looking wrap and is a good choice for bad hair days.
 
Scarf Style Needed: Rectangular (oblong) Scarf
 
Tying the Scarf:
      Drape the rectangular scarf over the head off-centered so that one end hangs much farther down the body than the other. Gather the ends of the scarf at the nape of the neck and cross them behind the head. Twist the longer end of the scarf to form a "rope" which should be laid along the front edge of the scarf approximately 1-2 inches from the edge (over the top of the head).
      Continue the twist around to meet the other, shorter, end of the scarf and knot the two ends together. The ends can be left loose to drape over or behind the shoulder, or may be guided along the back of the head and tucked under the scarf, out of sight. This is a terrific look for outdoor occasions or for anytime you want to create an exotic look and your hair won't cooperate."
 
 

The True Story of the Walter Reed Radiation Oncology Princess

My first few days of radiation were the worst - unbearable in fact. So much so that by Monday, after only having received 3 treatments, I requested to see the Radiation Oncologist and asked him what the chance of recurrence was if I chose not to continue with therapy. His answer was a startling 35% and he strongly encouraged me to continue with treatment.

Positioning of your body is critical during radiation. During your initial visit several "tattoos" similar to a mole are placed on your body to later assist the technicians with proper alignment. Your arm and head are placed in a mold which is then formed to fit snugly. Due to the location of my tumor I had to turn my head as far as possible to the right and remain in that position throughout each treatment.

Unbeknownst to me, or to the radiation team, the mold was pressing into a nerve at the base of my skull resulting in a stiff neck, severe headaches, nausea and vomiting. I threw up more during my first few days of radiation and that weekend then I did the entire time I was receiving chemotherapy. Radiation was supposed to be the easy part!

The cure was simple. A folded wash cloth was placed over the ridge in the mold where it was pressing against my nerve to alleviate the pressure. After 1 - 2 evenings of muscle relaxers and padding my mold, thankfully, all the symptoms resolved.

From then on Michelle, one of the radiation technicians, officially dubbed me "Princess", as in the old fairy tale by Hans Christian Andersen, "The Princess and the Pea". For the remaining 6 weeks I earned the right to that name requiring my "princess pillow" for each treatment.

Not the end, just the beginning. This Princess shall live happily ever after! ;0)

(written by me for inclusion in my Breast Cancer Warrior scrapbook)

Every Moment - Right Now

Every moment is a choice.

I'm learning so much from this journey
of medicine, faith and healing
but one lesson stands above all...

I’ve learned that every single moment,
I have a choice to make.

In every moment I can choose to worry about a future
I can nor predict,
or I can choose to revel in the blessings of my life as is.
I can choose to live in fear of something I can not control
or I can choose to control my attitude and my outlook.

Right now, I can love my family.
I can appreciate the love given to me.
Right now, I can see and I can feel.
I can breathe fresh air, smell the flowers,
and I can feel the rain on my skin.
Right now I can hear, speak and laugh.
I can hear the laughter of children
and I can laugh along with them.
I can tell those that I love
just how much they mean to me.
Right now I can enjoy the beauty of life,
and create memories.
I can support others
as well as be supported by others.
Right now, I have a wonderful medical team
and I can trust that they are taking care of me.
Right now, I have everything I need,
and in every moment I choose
to celebrate the blessings in my life.

Right now I am living well
and I choose to LIVE my life to the fullest.

(words of encouragement from me to me)

They told me nausea wasn't a side affect...

Laughter is still the best medicine! :0)