The Machine

I am home alone tonight. Paul and the boys are the Spurs game. I am not home alone because I didn't want to go to the game. (I did.) I am not home alone because we couldn't get another ticket. (We could.) I am home alone because I simply cannot be on my feet at all after 8:30 PM. After that, like Cinderella's coach, I turn into a pumpkin. (For those of you who don't get my family's humor - a major vegetable, non-verbal and not moving.) This is not the first family outing that I have missed in the last few months. This IS the first time I had to stay home that I didn't cry (progress, I guess). I hope it will be one of the last times I have to miss something because of this nasty, nasty disease.

Thanks for your prayers last week, as a result, I am happy to report that this week has been much, much better. To answer the question everyone is now asking, yes, Paul and I did take Andrew's advice and go out. No, it did not immediately make everything better, but we are making progress. Just admitting we were having problems started us on the road to better. Also, I have been really trying to control the anger that is still festering about my life. Instead of verbally barfing it all over Paul every time I see him, I am allowing myself the hour it takes me to drive to radiation and back to be totally angry, frustrated, mad, sad and worn out about all of this. This one hour of mad seems to really be helping the other twenty-three hours in my day. I am still hurting quite a bit, but since I can feel totally sorry for myself one hour a day I can suck it up the rest of the time and just be moderately annoyed by the pain and itching.

Sleeping seems to be another story. I take many, many pain relievers before bed to just to get to sleep. However, according to Paul I still moan and cry in my sleep. The other night I woke up and he was rubbing my head. I guess that quiets me down and my head is really the only safe place to touch me right now. I love him for that (other stuff too!).

Just for fun, I thought you would like a peek at the radiation machine. This is not quite the same tour Ben got one day when he stood in the control room during my treatment, but it is close.



When I get there, I strip to the waist and lie down on the table. The red things at the top are rests for my arms and hands which go up over my head. The table is lifted up and back to be directly under the big grey machine. (This is fun ride, sort of like riding in the scoop of my grandpa's tractor, only we never run into a tree. Grandpa Harold thought that part was hilarious.) Then the radiologists line me up using my tattoos and laser lights from the ceiling and walls. If you look closely at the bottom picture, you can see the open box from which one of the lights is projected. After that, a numbered scale is projected onto my chest and I am placed in exactly the same position every day according to these measurements. The giant grey machine rotates around so the big hanging circle is at about 45 degrees to my right. I turn my head to side so no radiation hits my esophagus (thanks for not doing that!). The radiation is shot at my breast from that angle so it misses my lungs and heart (again, thank you for thinking of that). Next, it moves to directly above my armpit and radiates a triangle above my breast from my collarbone to my armpit. This is to hit the entire chain of lymph nodes in that area. Then it moves around to hit those same two fields from the back side. Each radiation is about 15 seconds during which the machine makes a buzzing noise. You are not supposed to be able to feel it, but sometimes my skin tingles while it is being radiated. On Tuesday and Wednesday in addition to the radiation, they take x-rays of the radiation fields. This is to ensure that I am being positioned properly and they are still missing all of my organs with the radiation. I know this is necessary, but I am even more grumpy on those days because it means I have to lay in position on the table for at least twenty minutes, sometimes more. I am constantly amazed at the science of all of my cancer treatment. I wonder who thought all of this up and who was brave enough to let them test it on them for the first time. I am grateful to those people for being the guinea pigs for me.

The score stands at 23 down, 11 to go. After next week I will be getting a different kind of radiation called a boost. More on that later...

"The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not be in want. He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet waters, he restores my soul. He guides me in paths of righteousness for his name's sake. Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and you staff, they comfort me. You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies. You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. Surely goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever." Psalm 23