Saturday, August 29, 2009

They Lied about Radiation.

They lied to me about radiation.

It's the most painful process during this whole cancer journey.

Not the radiation part. I don't even feel that.

It's the freaking position I have to hold to get the radiation. I can now write about the Spanish Inquisition from the prisoner's part.

It's the only part of the treatment that has brought me to tears at almost every session.

It's where I can't bother to chant my "I can do this" and am instead wanting to scream out, "Hurry up and get me the h*ll out of here."

I've lost my sense of humor.

The position...

Imagine lying on a narrow table with your right arm in space. Now raise that arm where it is even with the side of your body, and your right hand about a foot from your head. There is a little brace to hold you just above your wrist. Since they want to give radiation to the side under my arm, they tape my arm to the brace, moving the fatty batwing that I carry around up and out of the way.

Then the "stretch your neck and look up and over to the left"...that's another part of the pain. I should have a lovely neck on the right hand side, the left will be full of wrinkles.

AND...hold that position for at least twenty-five to thirty minutes.


The ouch doesn't even cover the pain I'm in. I try to step up to the plate and be brave, but it's hard. If they manage to linger too long, and why do they need so many x-rays, then I'm in tears by the end of my session.

Just think, only five freaking weeks left. FIVE FREAKING WEEKS.

Like I said. I lost my sense of humor.

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At 5:58 AM, Blogger J L said...

This sounds like the Mammogram from Hell. I can think of nothing to say that might even remotely help you cope with this except this: scream like crazy as you drive home from the appointment. Maybe it'll make you feel better.


At 7:41 AM, Blogger Judi Fennell said...

I'm with JL. I mean, I usually tell my mom when she complains about all the pills she has to take to keep everything in control, that at least she can. That 50 years ago, she'd be so worse off she probably wouldn't be here, so just take the meds.

but this, God, this sounds like torture. And someday they're going to have a new way to do this and it won't be like this, but until then, this is all we have. And it sucks. It just literally sucks. I'm soooo sorry for you Donna, that you've got to go through this. My mom had a friend 30 years ago who was on the beginning of bone marrow transplant. And it didn't work for her. But now it does. So there is progress, but, ick to have to go through the pain of the position. The position!!! Bad enough the radiation and the cancer, but the position??

I'm glad you're doing the blog; and I pledge to check in more often. I'd really like to say something funny and uplifting to give you some good thoughts while you're going through this effing position, but it just eludes me at the moment. I'm pulling for you.

At 1:03 PM, Blogger Maggie Toussaint said...

Oh Donna, I hardly know what to say, except I'm sorry you are having such a time of all this. Like most other things, it is a journey, but it is such a departure from where you want to be, I'm sure.

It is good to use your substantial writing skills to journal all this out. That way you are exorcising a demon or two and keeping your hand in the writing till.

I'm sorry I live so far away. I'd love to be able to sit with you and look out the window.

Major hug!

who hopes Donna's treatment will end with a victory for Donna

At 10:43 AM, Anonymous Patti Rowell said...

Awww, Donna. I'm so sorry. Sometimes things just get to us, no matter how strong and positive we are.



At 7:36 AM, Blogger Vicky said...

Donna, I don't even have the words to say all that I'm feeling after reading this. It seems so little to say I'm thinking about you. But I am. {{{Hugs}}}


At 7:14 AM, Anonymous CJ Clark said...

So sorry to hear you have to go through this. Perhaps you could change your mantra to: This too shall pass.


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