irradiated

Know what? Radiation is kinda boring.

I come in, wave at the receptionist on my way to the dressing room, swap all my clothing above the waist for a hospital gown, and lay down on a table. Then 2-3 technicians push me around a bit to get me positioned correctly under the lasers and such, while I pretend I'm a mannequin* - whatever position they put me in, that's how I'll stay.
Everyone clears the room, leaving me alone while a machine shoots radiation at the selected areas. A few minutes later, I'm all done, the techs help me up from the table, I change back into my clothes, and I'm outta there.

Boring.

Or, it could be.

Truth is, the techs are nice people. They tell me they like the music I chose to listen to (I asked for Neon Trees, or anyone like them), and sometimes, they even dance. While they wait for the machine to finish circling out of the way, or the table to come back down, they dance. And I lay there half-naked on a table, with my feet rubber-banded together. (Is it just me, or does this sound like something out of Rocky Horror?)

*Did you ever play that game when you were little? you stand still (or you sit, or lay down) and your friend takes hold of your arm or whatever and positions you in various awkward positions? Just me? Okay. Nevermind.

Recently

Recently, I've been plagued by the same almost-mistake, over and over again.

I keep almost leaving the house without anything on my head.

Seriously.

 

Yes, my hair is starting to grow back. As are my eyebrows.

But it's not quite to the point that I would actually be comfortable spending the entire day like this.

Radiology, Tatts, and prepping to become a super-hero

(Or, something like that.)

Went to Radiology this morning, for the initial set-up appointment.

This involved me taking off everything above the waist, putting on a gown (opening in the back, please), laying down on the "bed" for the scanner, and having my feet held together with a huge rubber band (to help keep me still, she said). I was then dressed up with a special tape (to mark the area that will be irradiated) and run through a huge donut for a cat-scan. Quick process, that. And I didn't even have to hold my breath.

Once they had the scans, I had to stay still while she calibrated the computer, and then the tech came in and turned out the lights, saying that she could see what she needed to see a little easier with the lights out. (This had me wondering if the tape and the scan somehow together left some kind of marks on my skin?) She then switched on something in the thing above my head that read "laser". I could see there was a red light, aimed at my nose. She repositioned the "bed", and I presume the red light was now aimed at my right breast. She then drew six dots on me - four around my right breast, and one on either side of my body, in the rib area. Once drawn, she prepped her tattoo needle (it looked like a flexible tube with a needle at one end - not exactly high tech), and poked me six times, injecting ink at each one of the dots. She drew blood.

(So now, I have smears of ink, not quite cleaned off, around each dot, and the one that bled? it's the one located just about dead-center on my chest, well above cleavage area, fully visible to all and sundry. That's pretty.)

The doc asked me if I had questions. I told him I'd never done this before, so, I didn't know. He laughed and told me to write them down, if I thought of any, and we'd go over them, one by one, next time he saw me. All of this took place while I was laying down, gowned, partially exposed, hands above my head. I felt silly.

After, when I was dressed again, I stood at the counter discussing appointment times. The doctor came up next to me, asked how I felt. I said, "I have tattoos!", and he lamented the fact that they didn't have more sophisticated equipment. A micro-tattoo would be so much better - you could have tiny little butterflies or roses or hearts - if only they had the equipment. I pointed out that little dots aren't exactly going to stick out on my skin - I've already got plenty, I say, sticking out my arms to show him all my freckles. He was nice.

My first appointment is on Wed the 20th. They will shoot radiation at my body, guided by the tattoos, for about 15 min, every week day, for six to eight weeks.

Tomorrow, I have my follow-up with the oncologist.

I live a thrilling life, no?

it's like a 5 o'clock shadow...for my head

I noticed on Thursday that my head seemed to be somewhat fuzzier, darker. But I didn't want to be jumping the gun here, stating that I might have some actual hair on my head.
Today, I took some pictures, and, yup, I seem to have more hair!

It's still quite thin, yes. And some of it isn't so much brunette as it is...void of color. But, it's there. And it's mine. By the time it's officially summer, I may be able to get away with wearing just a hat, on a really hot day, instead of a wig, topped with a hat, to protect my head from sunburn.

Also, my eyebrows are showing signs of coming back, though I'm not sure you can see that here.

Close up, in the mirror, I can see it. (This is my left eyebrow, BTW. Apparently, it thought it should match the right one. Stupid eyebrows. Do you have any idea how hard it is to draw eyebrows on yourself? Or how long that takes? Sheesh.)

My nails, however, seem to think it would be better to abandon ship.

Did no one tell them that chemo is over? Really, guys, you can stay! No need to peel off and regrow! (It's the index and middle finger there that are showing signs of peeling. So far.)
I trimmed them shorter, in an effort to keep them from catching on anything and getting pulled off. Not sure that's going to help, but, it was worth a shot. I'd say something like "why couldn't it have been my toenails instead", but, then one of those would want to come off, too. So, I never said that. Nope. And yes, I am aware that I could use a good manicure. It's just best if I don't do that until my nail strength is back to normal. I can live with ragged cuticles if it means keeping my nails. It's all a matter of perspective.