Mask Pt. 3
July 23, 2007 | Filed Under radiation, treatment | No Comments
They have to do some more scans to recalibrate the fields they are targeting. I’m more than half-way through my radiation treatments — just three more weeks they tell me. The fields are getting smaller. That’s the good news.
The bad news for me is that I had to spend two hour long sessions locked into that mask before the technicians figured out that I needed to be refitted for a new mask. I’ve lost so much weight, the mask no longer fits precisely enough to go on with the remainder of the treatment. So they’re taking me out of rotation for treatment for the rest of the week. After they make a new mask, they’ll re-do the scans and then I’ll finish the last league of radiation.
Glass half-full: I’m coming into the home-stretch — yippee!
Glass half-empty: Oh this fucking mask!
Treatment Continues
July 4, 2007 | Filed Under feeding tube, radiation, treatment | No Comments
According to Dr. Fanelle, I’m making good progress. But what does progress mean? I’m weak. I’m tired all of the time. I spend most of my day in bed sleeping. Even though the treatment is showing signs of shrinking my tumors, the treatment is doing it’s share of damage. I now have to use my feeding tube. While everyone else is enjoying the holiday, eating BBQ and whatnot, I’m stuck injecting formula through a tube. Some 4th of July. Hopefully, next year will be better.
Quirks of Fate
July 3, 2007 | Filed Under cancer | No Comments
Every day in the Men’s waiting area, at the cancer center, I chat with this cheery old guy named Phil Snyder. Today is Phil’s last day of treatment. He has prostate cancer. For over a month now, I’ve been conversing with Phil and truth be told, will miss the old guy. I still have another month and some change to go in my own treatment and I’ll have no one to talk to, to help pass the time.
But that’s not the point of this particular entry. See, in all this time, I’d never seen Phil’s wife, who brings him every day. Usually, he’s finished with his treatment and gone before I go back for my own treatment, so I’ve never met her. Today, however, both of them are still in the lobby when I come out — talking to my mother. It turns out that Phil’s wife is Emily Snyder — my second grade teacher! Imagine that . . . after all these years to see my old teacher. And under these circumstances.
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