Every day I get up, shower, get ready, and drive to the cancer center in time for my standing 7:45am appointment. I walk in, say hello to the receptionist who always welcomes me with a smile and says, "Good morning, Malita! I'll check you in!" I say thank you and exchange pleasantries, and then I sit down and say hi to the others in the waiting room. Over the last 3.5 weeks I've noticed a revolving door of regulars. The same people come, and then you don't see them and new ones show up. Some people are quieter than others, and others are more outgoing and friendly.
I don't wait long before I hear my name, and one of the radiation therapists asks how I'm doing. I walk into the changing room where I grab a gown out of the drawer, then step into a changing room, shut the curtain, and change from the waist up. Then I put my clothes and purse in a little locker that reminds me of my 7th grade locker it's so small. I take the key and sit and wait, while perusing a magazine, wondering if I should get into something or not in case they call my name soon.
When they call my name, I take my key and walk into the radiation room. There is a long, flat board that I lay on, and it's surrounded by the radiation machine. At the top of the board are two handles to hold onto. At the middle is a little bump which is for me to lay with my rear up against it, as if I were sitting on it, and a white sheet is draped over the entire board. I take my left arm out of my sleeve, lay into position, and then they place a bolster under my knees. They ask if I want a warm blanket and I always say yes. (Who doesn't want a blanket out of a heater??)
There are always two techs in the room, and sometimes a student. I position by placing my hands on the handles above my head and turning my head to the right. We talk about our days and what's ahead, or how our days yesterday went. A green laser lines up to my tattoo in the middle of my chest. Then one tech is on each side of me. I believe there are lines on the board for me to line up against. They lift the sheet and each person has to be "on." They may adjust my hips, my arms, or my shoulders initially, and then it's a dance between them getting me into position by moving the sheet.
"I can go in a line."
"Ok, I can go out a line."
"I need a quarter roll."
"Can you go in another line?"
"Uhh I could go in."
"I need another quarter roll."
"That's me."
"I need another line."
"Ok that's me."
"That's me."
"Perfect."
Then they grab the bolus, which is a thick piece of rubber-like material that they place on my breast and armpit. The bolus increases the radiation to my skin, which is where we want it to be so it's not going through to my back. They use tape to keep it in place, and then when they're set they say, "Here we go, Malita." They step out and close the thick, Wizard of Oz door.
I lay still, and the first of the two rounds I am looking at the radiation machine. The part I see is this large circle with a window pane. Inside the window pane are these moveable pieces that are grey and remind me of the inside of a typewriter. The way that they move together and apart though remind me of the doors and how they open and close in Star Wars. When the pieces move and adjust, it sounds like a disposable camera rewinding. Then I hear a 4 second buzz, then a pause, and then a 10 second buzz that's a little louder.
Then the machine moves to the other side, and the techs come in, remove the first bolus, and replace it with a second bolus. This one requires more tape. I don't see the radiation machine anymore since it's now on my left side and I'm looking to the right, but from the light inside of the machine I can see the curve of my breast projected onto the ceiling. Then the techs walk out again, and I hear the same buzzes. When it's over, I turn my head to the center, put my arms down, and they cover me up after they remove the bolus and the board lowers. They help me up, I take my key, we say, "See you tomorrow!" and I go to the dressing room again.
I go into the dressing room, take out the prescribed steroid cream, rub it all over the area, then put aquafer on to lock in as much moisture as possible. Then I wipe my greasy hands on my gown, put it in the laundry bag, and I walk out, saying goodbye to each person I pass. Then I'm off to work!
On Mondays I see my Radiologist, but it's brief. He says my skin is looking good for now, but that it's going to get worse. I've noticed a lot of brown dots appearing, and the hair under my armpit is definitely back. It hasn't bothered me as much as I thought it would, but I'm still a little grossed out by it. Overall though, for how far into it I am I am pleased with how my skin's been handling it. It's not really red or peeling, more just a dark tan at this point.
Speaking of which, my hair is definitely coming in! It feels like so much right now, that when I continue to get stares I wonder, "What are people staring at?? I have so much hair!!" Then I look in the mirror and think, "Ok, I guess it's not THAT much." But it's definitely progressing! It's also incredibly soft and I can't stop rubbing the top off it. I've also noticed my eyebrows are starting to fill in again. Welcome back, boys.
August 18 is my last day of radiation, and just like I rang a bell when I was done with chemo, I get to ring a bell when I'm done with radiation. I walk past it every day on my way out. I have a feeling that day is going to come sooner than I realize. In the meantime, I continue to go on with my new normal routine.
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