Today I completed my 14th radiation treatment.
I lay down on the narrow white table while the three-foot wide screen with its high-pitched hum added a zzzzzzzz in about middle E and aimed invisible rays at my left breast.
It moved across me from right to left and continued to buzz at me from the lower left, aimed at my armpit and the left side of my breast.
That's what the treatment is like every day; I will have a total of 23 of those expensive treatments (covered by Medicare).
Then three male technicians did some talking and measuring to prepare for the seven booster treatments that will begin next Wednesday. Dr. McCloskey came in and checked on whether they had the right location.
With her okay, they drew an large oval on my left breast and then took a photo of it.
I changed from hospital gown into my clothes and left.
In a good mood, I decided to sit on the patio and check my cell phone while waiting to see if my car's oil change was completed.
Because I was outside when I made that decision, I had to step over a couple of four-inch edgings to get to the patio. (From inside, I could simply have opened a door to the area.)
Looking toward the patio, but not at my feet (one of which is wearing a huge black soft cast), I stumbled on one of the little edgings and nearly fell.
No big deal, right? But it was the same kind of stumble that had put me in that cast for the past two months. Realizing that I had done it again--I had not learned my lesson--caused me to burst into tears. I sat on the patio and cried.
At home, I took off my shirt and stared at my left breast: pinker than the right, tender, slightly swollen. Also the underarm area (near where two lymph nodes had been removed) showed a rectangular pink imprint.
For the first ten treatments, the zapped breast had not showed much difference from the other one. Now the radiation is finally having a visible effect.
Of course, the scar from the lumpectomy is still red--a dramatic little unhappy smile. At least it's no longer looking infected. There's still a small red spot where the biopsy needle entered in April. The incision in the underarm has faded to a pale thin line.
I squeezed some Miaderm radiation relief cream out of the tube and gently soothed it onto the whole left breast.
14 down, 9 to go.
I lay down on the narrow white table while the three-foot wide screen with its high-pitched hum added a zzzzzzzz in about middle E and aimed invisible rays at my left breast.
It moved across me from right to left and continued to buzz at me from the lower left, aimed at my armpit and the left side of my breast.
That's what the treatment is like every day; I will have a total of 23 of those expensive treatments (covered by Medicare).
Then three male technicians did some talking and measuring to prepare for the seven booster treatments that will begin next Wednesday. Dr. McCloskey came in and checked on whether they had the right location.
With her okay, they drew an large oval on my left breast and then took a photo of it.
I changed from hospital gown into my clothes and left.
In a good mood, I decided to sit on the patio and check my cell phone while waiting to see if my car's oil change was completed.
Because I was outside when I made that decision, I had to step over a couple of four-inch edgings to get to the patio. (From inside, I could simply have opened a door to the area.)
Looking toward the patio, but not at my feet (one of which is wearing a huge black soft cast), I stumbled on one of the little edgings and nearly fell.
No big deal, right? But it was the same kind of stumble that had put me in that cast for the past two months. Realizing that I had done it again--I had not learned my lesson--caused me to burst into tears. I sat on the patio and cried.
At home, I took off my shirt and stared at my left breast: pinker than the right, tender, slightly swollen. Also the underarm area (near where two lymph nodes had been removed) showed a rectangular pink imprint.
For the first ten treatments, the zapped breast had not showed much difference from the other one. Now the radiation is finally having a visible effect.
Of course, the scar from the lumpectomy is still red--a dramatic little unhappy smile. At least it's no longer looking infected. There's still a small red spot where the biopsy needle entered in April. The incision in the underarm has faded to a pale thin line.
I squeezed some Miaderm radiation relief cream out of the tube and gently soothed it onto the whole left breast.
14 down, 9 to go.
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