As I write this, Christmas is just 11 days away. Christmas
feels very different this year, mostly because of the dramatic change in my
daily routine. Everything seems to revolve around my daily 45 mile drive to Fort Wayne , Indiana Fort Wayne
The two preparatory sessions that I was dreading were not
quite as expected. Implantation of the markers in my prostate was worse than I
thought. The actual mechanics of the procedure were akin to the biopsy, except
there was no numbing and rather than removing tissue, two markers were injected
into my prostate. I have to say that smarted.
The CT scan was not a biggie. The worst part of that
procedure was getting alignment tattoos, and that wasn’t bad at all. I was
surprised at how little time it took for my leg casting to set up. The cast
seems to be made of a cardboard-type substance.
After one simulated session, it was time for the real McCoy.
My first three sessions were the week of Thanksgiving. There is no humility in
this process. You get on the table, pull down your pants and place your legs in
your custom mold. I am to the point now (18 treatments in) where I don’t think
about how awkward it is to pull your pants down in front of young ladies. It is
just part of the procedure. I suppose that under different circumstances, one
could be arrested for this, or at least sued for harassment.
The radiation technicians are great. They do this all day
long, seeing someone different every ten minutes or so. They are just as kind
and pleasant as they could possibly be. In fact, everyone at the prostate
cancer center is very kind and understanding. They know what you are going
through. They know that you are uncomfortable about the fact that you have
cancer, and that the treatment and particularly its side effects can be unpleasant.
The sessions aren’t too bad. You verify that those are your
leg molds (your name is on them), that the information on the screen is indeed
you (the photo is a dead giveaway), and then you lie on the table. After
dropping your drawers and getting aligned, the techs then head for a safe area
to control the machine for your treatment. Each session starts with x-rays and
adjustment of the table. The actual radiation sessions consists of being shot
with the beam from seven different positions, each approximately 20 seconds long.
I am told that the amount of radiation varies in each position. The entire
process from walking into the chamber to leaving the chamber takes
approximately 10 minutes.
Wednesday is “doctor day.” After treatment, each patient
sees the oncologist. I like the doctor, though he pulls no punches. I am
starting to get some skin irritation from the radiation, and he was kind enough
to share, “It’s going to get a lot worse before it gets better.”
In addition to the skin issues, fatigue is becoming a
concern. I take a nap when I get home, though sometimes life gets in the way.
The wife’s car had some mechanical issues this week, so in addition to my
90-mile trip, I had to take her to and from work. This eliminated my nap. Due
to holiday activities and other obligations, I have been driving somewhere just
about every night.
Because of all of this driving coupled with the fatigue and
the usual busy December schedule, I am not feeling very festive. Actually, I am
feeling kind of depressed. The focus of my every weekday is that drive and
treatment. I do not look forward to it. Now that some side effects are becoming
evident with only about a third of my sessions completed, it is more
challenging to maintain a positive attitude.
Maybe I am just feeling sorry for myself. What I do know is
that I am looking forward to this all being over with. One really nice thing
about Christmas this year is that I get four glorious consecutive days where I
don’t have to drive to Fort Wayne
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