July 20 is my final week of chemo and, as I mentioned before, I am having radiation treatment as well. Radiation is six weeks, every day except weekends. I got my tats and my preliminary CT and MRI and am ready. Okay, let's get it going, I'm getting very tired of all this.
I was five minutes late to my first radiation appointment (no surprise) to find two nurses waiting patiently for me. No waiting room and not another patient in sight. This was looking pretty good. They took me to a very large, new and expensive-looking xray machine with a table beneath it all set up and ready for me to hop on (more hopping). So, I hop on and am instructed to pull my pants down to mid thigh (I have said that my tumor was in my thigh, but I may not have mentioned that it was close to my groin) and a towel was discreetly and carefully placed and adjusted so as not to cause me any embarrassment, but still show my thighs. They took their time adjusting, in my opinion, but hey, I'm no expert.
I will pause a moment while you giggle or get any jokes about my manhood out of your system. Its okay, I understand.
Ready? So, after they raise the table about chest high, it is then adjusted again so the xray beams can be triangulated, using my tattoos, to hit the exact position they want to obliterate - thereby saving the planet (sorry, got a little Jerry Bruckheimer). As I am lying there, I notice my feet are actually against a sheet of glass on the machine and the nurses are discussing something. A couple more attempts to adjust the table, and the nurses tell me they need to find the doctor. Fine. I'll just lie here, up in the air, with my pants pulled down.
The doctor arrives and proceeds to tell me I am too tall. Wha? Apparently the machine hasn't been configured for people my height with the position of my tattoos. Huh? We will need to reschedule so that they can reprogram the machine. Uh, okay. No big deal. What's one more appointment?
They lower me and let me off the table. I take the opportunity to ask my radiation oncologist about the advantages of chemo and radiation at the same time. "Oh, we're not doing them at the same time. We are suspending you're chemo for six weeks and then you will resume once radiation is through" Wha? "Well, if that's what I have to do, then that's what I'll do," said the patient with the sense of humor and sparkling attitude. "I'll just be bald a while longer." Crap. "What is the advantage?" I asked innocently. "Oh, no advantage one way or the other. Your chemo oncologist and I just decided that is what we would do. Didn't anyone tell you?" Huh?
No advantage? Screw that! I'm tired of being the dutiful little cancer soldier. I told the doctor if there is no proof one way or the other, he is going to have to wait. Long story short: I am continuing with chemo and holding off on radiation. I want this to be over. I'm tired of having a good attitude about all this. I want my friends back. I want my freedom back. I want my hair back. (Insert witty remark here, I'm too pissed off.)
I will begin radiation treatment sometime in August. I'm not really looking forward to it but, I am told, it should only make me tired. Tired doesn't sound too bad, I don't mind telling receptionists I'm tired.
So, until August, the radiation nurses will just have to practice proper towel placement on someone shorter.
