Radiation
10 August 2022
A new adventure, Canberra Hospital – southside!
Today I met with the Radiation Oncologist – or at least her offsider Eric for the most part. A very bright, young doctor looking neat in his matching Tommy Hilfiger shoes, belts, pants, shirt. Gentle and thorough.
A senior nurse came in to ‘accompany’ me while I stripped off my shirt for show and tell. I’m a little unsure about this requirement(?) to have a same-gender chaperone in the room when I take my gear off. Do they bring a man into the room for male patients who are being seen by a female doctor or nurse? Personally, I’m not fussed. Like having the pat-down at the airport. A recent experience: to ‘hurry things along’ we got separated into male and female queues at the security screening (I can already hear the bleats of the woke, non-binary, gender-fluid brigade … ) – it didn’t hurry things along and I ended up joining the male queue. Controversial.
The kindly nurse informed me she had had both her tits removed so knew all about ‘what I was going through’. I think it’s nice she (over)shared that morsel of information – though I wasn't comforted. Something I have always been conscious of is trying not to ‘compare’ experiences. Hearing some stories makes me feel like a fraud. I won’t lose both my breasts. The type of cancer I have is treatable (some aren’t). People endure horrific diseases, pain, illness every day, it’s not a competition.
Each person will tackle a life challenge differently. One person’s fortitude, endurance, resilience will not necessarily be the same as the next. Nor should we expect it to be. While there will be constants, how an individual experiences – and copes with – life’s challenges, will vary infinitely. Availability of emotional and practical support from friends, community, work, loved ones; access to medical treatment; geography; income – myriad factors will influence your experience. Self-help books are generally rubbish. They may provide a few tools that will help some but mostly they're just another writer regurgitating some buddha-bullshit and making a ton of money out of us cashed-up, fucked-up, white, western folk.
Comedian, Jimmy Carr: what do people in the developing world (ie. the poor people) use self-help books for?
Firewood.
Work it out people. Just be a decent human being.
But I digress (easy to do) …. I will try and summarise what was a very long exchange …
The size and grade of the tumour was bigger than initially thought. Radiation treatment is strongly recommended. You need it. We want to radiate the whole breast – and axillary lymph nodes for 3 weeks. Monday to Friday. Excludes weekends because cancer is on award-wages and we don’t want to pay it overtime. Then a further round – 4 days – localised on the tumour site ie. blast-the-fuck-out-of-it. Without treatment, the chances of cancer returning are high.
Me: what happens now? Do I start radiation next week?
Eric: Once you have seen the medical oncologist tomorrow, we will book you in for a treatment plan. Then we will book you in for a scan which will pin-point where the radiation will be directed (a free tattoo!). You will likely start actual radiation in mid-September. We aim to get treatment started within 6 weeks after surgery, 8 at the latest. Of course this will all happen after the chemo – if you are required to have it. Do you have a preference for AM or PM?
Me: AM, the earlier the better.
Eric: the first appointment is 7:30 – though it is very popular and usually booked out(!)
Where the breast is located (in case some of you were unsure …) means the radiation can affect the heart, lungs and ribs. The treatment requires you to hold-your-breathe for 20-30 second intervals during which, the lungs are ‘pushed’ down (I guess deflated) and hence minimises the radiation hitting them. You may be at increased risk of cardiovascular disease in the future due to the radiation. Some of the ribs can become more brittle because of the radiation which may become a concern/issue if you suffer some form of hard impact in the future eg. a car accident. He also explains there is a very very slim risk of cancer arising from the radiation treatment itself. We’re talking 1/10,000.
The maths in my head is saying: you have at least 30 years in which you want to live, work, stress, travel, plan, read, run, eat, laugh, drink, worry, be a friend, a sister, walk, wonder, have sex, think, socialise, make mistakes, swim, sit, do nothing (that’s not in order of importance by the way …) What gives me the best odds of doing all those things ….?
Yesterday we heard Olivia Newton-John died. Which made me sad. Does anyone know anyone that doesn’t like ONJ? Like, she did not have a bad bone in her body (a bad boob or two definitely). When Grease came out I was six years old. I begged my grandparents to take me. They took my sister and me to a 2pm session at the old Ngongotaha movie theatre – daggy old seats and a sloped wooden floor. It was a ripper. There were people up dancing and singing at the front of the cinema. My grandmother never forgot that scene – it was one of the most peculiar – and joyous – events in my life! For me, my sister, my grandmother… I think my grandfather was bemused/horrified/slightly confused!
I arrive back at the office about 2:45. BAU. So so much to do. My beautiful colleagues are caring but unintrusive. We listen to ‘Hopelessly Devoted to You’ for a bit of ONJ nostalgia. JP, NS and I work quietly, talk shit (mostly about the antics of teenage lads ….) until the moon comes up and it’s time to go home. Sam is out having fun with his buddies. Leftover curry in the fridge. Will sleep and find out about chemo tomorrow!