#23 - #24

I have completed 24 of 25 radiation treatments.  I think I am doing fine but to be honest,  it has been a long time since I have been 100% so its a little difficult to judge.  Relative to a couple of months ago I am doing great.

Radiation therapy is a little bit of a trip.  Unfortunately, it requires actual daily trips to the hospital for a short 15 minute treatment.  The actual logistics of leaving work in the middle of work, fighting traffic both ways and then arriving at home feeling quite literally blasted has become quite tiresome.  MDA has spent quite a bit of time and planning making it as convenient as possible for those getting daily treatments. The treatment center at the Mays Clinic is on the first floor just steps away from the free valet parking.  They have staffed their valet positions with a few of what I would consider greeters.  One in particular has made my day a little better every time I have arrived.  I'm not entirely sure what she is saying due to a pretty hardy accent but it is along the lines are you better today?  You look better today!  This is going to be a great day for you!  God Bless!  The lines are delivered with such a high level of energy, a smile, and who couldn't smile at the thick accent?  I assumed that it was a common line and that I was a number until the first Friday when I got a treatment several hours earlier than my regular 3:15 schedule.  The greeter said something along the lines of "You are here early, you must be excited to get better today!   Are you excited to get better today??"  MDA has no idea what she is worth to them.

I usually leave work at 2:30 to make my 3:15.  After dropping the car and checking in, I usually don't have to wait more than 5-10 minutes.  They have a waiting area that comes equipped with screens that you typically see at airports letting you know if you have cleared the stand by list or the like.  Your initials, your appointment time, and your check in time are there and it shows where you are at on their schedule.  It is pretty slick.   After getting called back, I hop up on the table, put my legs into my custom mold and pull my shirt up and scoot my pants down a bit.  There are usually three techs working on getting my tattoos / sharpie marks lined up with lasers that are mounted on the walls and ceiling.  Once I am lined up, they hand me a bar to hold onto with both hands to keep them out of the way over my chest and leave the room.  The particle accelerator starts to hum and starts treating/zapping/cooking/accelerating/bombarding/hurling subatomic particles my direction.  The table I lay on is cantilevered out over a space where the accelerator can rotate around my body.  It makes 7 different stops and focuses on the same spot from different angles.  Each stop takes about 30 seconds with a couple of short stops for about 20.  The lens or the opening of the equipment has a number of very small fingers that adjust to hit the same spot from the different angles.  I can't say that I feel any pain at the time but my stomach definitely reacts and starts growling and rolling.  I guess it could be the 6 hour fast prior to treatment but it happens almost every time.   I usually get super tired between the treatment and arriving at home.  Some of the other side effects have been hit and miss.

• Damage to the bowels, causing diarrhea.  I believe the medical term is "Loose Bowels".
• Memory Loss - I can't remember what I was trying to forget. (Cue Dirty Day)
• Infertility -  we haven't had any kids in the last 30 days so this one is probably confirmed.
• Reddened skin -  I'm not sure if this would be a reference to a sun burn or all the red sharpie ink but either way, yes.

I am looking forward to my last treatment.  Every time I stop to think about it, I can't help but to smile and have a small allergic reaction. 

Unit #5

Parting Shots:

• My hair is making a slow comeback
• There has been so many neat moments, so many people have blessed our lives. The meals keep getting delivered to our house.  It has been humbling to be at the receiving end of so much service and kindness.  Angie and I count our blessings each day,  many of them have names and reside here in Katy.

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#22 - Speed Racer

One of the quick checks that the physicians like to do before starting radiation in the abdomen is a kidney function test.  Apparently I will also be subjected to another function test after radiation and we will be able to determine if there was any kidney damage during treatment.  I'm not entirely sure why we are doing it.  In my opinion, it is what it is.  If we have to do the rad therapy, you just take what ever collateral damage that comes with.  I guess it lets the hospital know how much they need to apologize afterwords.  Maybe my sunflower seed consumption will end up being curtailed due to sodium content.  Who knows.

The test was pretty interesting.  I was invited back into the exam/test side of the hospital and handed some scrubs to change into.  Being an experienced hospital regular, (chemo baller?) I came prepared with my jump bag and my own lounge type pants to change into.  I declined the scrubs and told the nurse I will just use my own.  I believe the quote was something along the lines of "You may want to rethink your decision.  Many patients have a tendency to urinate on themselves during this test.  Your urine will be radioactive and it is probably safer to allow us to launder scrubs".

  ------Awkward Silence-----------

"Uh Great, so I think I will go with the scrubs."

At this point,  it was hard for me to concentrate as I started having some flashbacks of my mom zipping up my jammies and asking if I had gone potty. 

After I finished changing into scrubs, the nurse started an IV line, showed me to the rest room for a pit stop and walked me to the Kidney Nuc Med scanner.  I was told that I would be injected with a radio-isotope and that the test would last 22 minutes. At exactly 11 minutes,  they would be injecting a lasix diuretic into the IV to watch how well the kidneys process. The  scan machine was pretty cool.  I was able to lay there and watch a real time image of my kidneys collecting fluid and passing it down my ureters and to my bladder. The screen also displayed test time which was both a curse and a blessing.

It was pretty easy going.  Angie was allowed to hang out with me and take a few pictures.  At the halfway point they injected the lasix and pulled the IV.  It only took a few minutes to kick in but I could tell when it did.  My kidneys started to ache and I noticed what I thought was my bladder moving a little. I did not know at the time but this sensation was my filtration system providing me with some light foreshadowing. Everything was fine until I hit the 5 minute mark and I noticed that I was beginning to feel like I might need to assauge my bladder.  At the 3 minute mark, I noticed that the timer was slowing down.  At the 2 minute mark my eyes were starting to water and I was starting to question if I was going to go the distance. (cue Cake, The Distance)  At the one minute mark I was pretty sure that my kidneys, and bladder were both going to rupture.  I started wondering to myself how much pressure does your body really create?  I managed to complete the test sans an isotope spill. I'm pretty sure that the  nurse took an additional 15 secondinutes <<<< yes that is seconds that seem like minutes,  to come to my side and move the equipment out of the way.  I tried to play cool and walk down the hall but was definitely in a hurry.  I approached the single turn in the hallway like the final turn at the brickyard 400 trying to cut precious time with perfect entry/exit angles.  The scrubs drawstring was undone before I hit the door handle, and much like a NASCAR pit crew, I was taking care of business before the vehicle came to a complete stop.  The rest is history.   Or was it?    Interestingly enough,  I was back in that same restroom exactly 4 minutes later doing exactly the same thing.  I managed to change my clothes and made a 3rd trip in less than 10 minutes.  Angie and I made our way to the parking garage, into the car, and a mile to the east of the hospital before I had to take another pit stop at the corner gas station.  At this point, my pit crew and I were trying to determine if we could go the distance without making another pit.  We rolled the dice and managed to roll into a sandwich shop just off of 99 and Fry for our last isotope flush of the day.

One more adventure under my belt, near my belt.

Just say no to Lasix.