#13 :radiation
They run the radiation oncology department where I am being treated with ruthless efficiency. The treatment process, in which you become an expert extremely quickly, is streamlined and easy to follow.
Step 1: Say hi to the radiation team, all 6 of them. Notice they all look about 16 years old. You will be fairly certain that every single technician was once a member of the UW Badger cheer squad. They are young, energetic, hopelessly upbeat and optimistic. The bright white sparkle of toothy smiles shine through their surgical masks. Were you ever this young?
Step 2: Strip down to your waist. Quickly. Remove all jewelry. They supply you a hotel-pool quality hand towel for your comfort and modesty. State your name, date of birth, astrological sign, and that it is your RIGHT breast that should be targeted with radiation. They call this the team check-in. You feel relieved that you are part of the team.
Step 3: You ask for a warm blanket. The room is frigid when you are topless, and it is the small luxuries that matter at this point. You ask for a wash cloth to cover your eyes from the bright red beams of light. It’s just easier than squinting your eyes shut the entire time.
Step 4: Naked from the waist up, you put your arms up over your head and grab onto two handle grips. You expose your breasts, heart, lungs, throat. Feel freakishly vulnerable while the cheerleading squad leaves you alone in the giant room while they scurry out to protect themselves from the toxicity of your “treatment".”
Note: The scariest part of this experience is when the cheer captain lead technician mentions, multiple times, that it is very important that you DO NOT MOVE. They don’t want to radiate your heart or lungs, giggle, giggle, giggle. But, seriously, don’t move. You agree, with a light laugh, like it’s not the most terrifying idea in the world.
Step 5: Listen to music from the control room designed to keep you calm and distracted. Apparently, there is a station called “Born in the 70s” because so far the song choices have included American Pie, Blackwater, Sweet Home Alabama, Dust in the Wind (!!!!) and Piano Man.
The giant lasers whir. The table stays mostly stable but surprises you every once and awhile by moving laterally. The huge whale of a machine rotates around you delivering cancer-killing beams of radiation. As the extended version of American Pie plays, you feel the absurdity of the situation.
You wonder, how the hell did I end up here?
How did this all happen?
So, bye-bye, Miss American Pie
Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry
And them good ol' boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye
Singin', "This'll be the day that I die.
This'll be the day that I die"
You feel nothing as you are radiated. You think you feel gentle warmth from the beams, but question whether it is a real sensation or just your brain trying to make sense of the experience. You notice the contrast of the warm lower half of your body and the chill of your exposed skin in the cool room. You feel totally helpless; completely submissive to an experience you never wanted in the first place. You do not like this feeling. You realize American Pie has way too many verses.
Step 6: The whirring stops. The squad comes back. They help you sit up and jump off the table. While you put your shirt back on, they quickly wipe down the machine for the next patient. You are escorted out, patted on the butt, and flashed a megawatt smile. See you next time.
This whole process takes 15 minutes. It takes longer to find a place to park in the overpacked parking lot.
Once you are done with treatment, you douse yourself in moisturizing cream for the burn.
Then you repeat this exact process 14 more times.
While the treatments themselves were painless, the radiation burns hurt my delicate skin. It looks like a horrible sunburn, and feels like one too. There is an electric eel burning sensation that zaps me from time to time, completely randomly. Oh, and it also itches but if you scratch, you will cry.
I take two Extra Strength Tylenol.
The rest of the day, I am a “normal” person. I deal with work and groceries and taxes and cat litter. I get on with it. If you didn’t know me well, you might not know I’m going through treatment. I think of all the people walking around while doing things they don’t want to do. It’s really hard to be human sometimes.
This reminds me to be kind, to be gentle in the world because we are all walking around with ouchies.
It reminds me to slow down, to smile and look people in the eyes, to connect with people with love. We never know what is happening in the lives of those around us, but never forget, you are not alone.
I’d love to hear about your radiation experiences, whether you have experienced it yourself or with someone you love. Tell me everything.
