The Process

The appointment to set up radiation treatments took 2 hours. The technicians had to carefully calibrate the radiation emitter positions with my position so that they were radiating the chosen area and nothing esle. It was particularly important in my case because radiating the spinal chord would be Bad with a capital “B”.

The very first thing they did was create a method for securing my head to the table in exactly the same position each time I came to visit. This was accomplished using a polymer mesh. First they positioned my head very carefully with a support under my neck to tip my head back. They shoved some foam pads in my mouth to separate my lower jaw from my upper jaw. They wanted to radiate the lower one, but not the upper. I’m guessing that unintentionally radiating my brain would also have qualified as Bad. Once I was positioned, they warmed the mesh up somehow, the microwave for all I know. The warm mesh was in a frame and was very stretchy. It felt odd stretching over the skin of my face. I had to hold very still for about two minutes while the mesh solidified. When they removed it it retained the shape of my head. Each time thereafter that I came in, they would position my head, place the mesh mask over it, and shove the foam in my mouth, and bolt the whole set-up to the table. I was actually fairly interested in the process during the set up appointment. On my final appointment they offered to let me take the mesh mask home. I declined. By that time I never wanted to see the thing again. I’ve never seen it, but I still remember it.

In my radiation therapy the technicians used two different kinds of radiation. One kind had a very limited penetration through skin. They just put that machine in front of me and fired straight at the tumor location. The rays would not penetrate deeply enough to damage the spinal chord. The second kind of radiation would pass entirely through the human body. This kind was aimed at me from the side very carefully. To assist in this aiming they took X-rays and then very carefully drew lines down the side of my neck with a sharpie marker. Once they were sure they had the lines in the right places they tatooed a single dot on each side of my neck as reference marks because they had to re-draw the lines each time I came in for treatment. At first I always washed off the marker, towards the middle/end I stopped caring and often left it so that they wouldn’t have to redraw it the next day. At the end, they hardly needed to draw anything because my skin got so red and irritated. They drew the lines anyway because they are very careful and conscientious people. They had to draw lines on both sides of my neck, so they must have been shooting radiation from both sides. Once a week they took X-rays to make sure that everything was still aimed correctly.

The set up appointment was long and involved, but the actual therapy visits only took 15-20 minutes each (not including travel time). I would walk in the door of the lobby and just sit down. I never had to check in. They had cameras in the lobby and knew who was expected. In fact they probably started setting up for my therapy as soon as the person prior to me left the radiation room. I would only sit for a couple of minutes before a tech would come to get me. I’d change into a hospital gown from the waist up and lie on the table. I had to hand over my glasses, watch, and wedding ring. No metal was allowed. Mostly I just lay there while the techs adjusted things. Then they would leave the room and the machines would buzz. No pain, no sensation, just a small noise. Sometimes there would be an odd smell that I’ve since been told is the smell of ozone. Then the techs would come back, move things around and repeat the process.

I keep saying “the techs” or “they” I don’t mean to be impersonal. The people who ran the machines and helped me through this process were without exception kind and considerate people. They were a pleasure to work with and I remember being upset when there was a roster change part way through my therapy and I had to work with new people. I remember their kindness, but I can’t remember their names. Or faces. Several years ago I was greeted with delight in a grocery store. This woman obviously recognized me and was delighted to see me. A short conversation revealed that she had been one of the techs during my radiation therapy. I saw this woman every day for weeks. I held conversations with her. She was there during the hardest bits at the end where I’d just weep because I had to get on the table again. And I did not remember her at all. I still don’t. I remember being embarassed at not recognizing her. I also remember not really wanting to talk to this intimite stranger and ducking out of the conversation as fast as I politely could.

Once a week my 15-20 minute therapy appointment was stretched to 30 minutes because they weighed me, had me pee in a cup, drew my blood for testing, and had me sit down with the doctor to talk. Mostly the doctor said “Everything still looks good, see you next week.” Or at least that’s what he said until about half way through when he started saying “You’re losing too much weight, try to eat more.”

At first I drove myself to my therapy appointments. They occured every weekday afternoon at exactly the same time. I’d drop Kiki & Link at my cousin’s house and sit in the lobby pretending that I was enjoying the daily child-free time. Later when my energy ebbed and depression had begun to claw at me I was driven to my appointments by a neighbor. She drove me willingly, volunteering her time every day. I’m afraid I wasn’t good company. I had no energy to expend on conversation and I didn’t know her well enough to feel comfortable completely ignoring her. I was probably rude at times, but from exhaustion rather than from a desire to injure. I still see this neighbor and now I make time for the small talk. If I didn’t still see her regularly, I’d probably have wiped her from my memory too.