Here We Go Again
I start radiation treatment tomorrow morning. My radiologist has spent the last few weeks "mapping" me, to make sure that they zap the exact areas where the cancer was, and not the surrounding healthy parts. I will get zapped front and back, five days a week for 3 and a half weeks. The actual treatments will only last about 3 minutes, but they say it takes them about 15 minutes to get me all lined up, so I can expect to be strapped to the table for about 20 minutes at a time.
And when I say strapped to the table, I'm not kidding. You saw that funky plastic mask that I was fitted with several weeks back. Well, that funky mask has shrunk a little bit since then. When they bolt the back of it to the table to keep me still, it presses hard against my face. I went through the final stages of mapping today, and had to sit perfectly still on a stiff table for almost two hours. That mask was killing me! It was wrenching my jaw so badly, that halfway through I told the technicians to take it off so my jaw could get a break.
I'm told that I likely won't feel any side effects from my radiation right away. As the weeks go by, however, I will probably get a sore throat because of the radiation that's focused on that area, along with a bit off a gravelly voice. I asked the doc whether any of these affects will be permanent, and he said probably not. He said if I was a professional singer, then it could be an issue, but for an amateur warbler like me, it's typically a non-issue.
Part of my lungs and heart are going to get some radiation, because of where the tumors were located. I am particularly concerned about these areas because I am somewhat of an athlete, and my family has a history of heart problems. Doc says if was a world-class athlete, I can expect some decreased ability because of treatment, but considering I won't be going for any world records anytime soon, I should be okay. I told him that I had long strived to qualify for the Boston Marathon (which would require a 3:20 finish or better), and he said that the scarring that will occur in my lungs from this treatment may affect my ability to run long distances at a pace that would allow me to qualify. Hearing that was a bit of a blow, but I will see how it goes. There are other side effects that I'm concerned about: permanent damage to my thyroid, hair loss on the back of my neck, and of course, the risk of secondary cancers as a result of this treatment.
A month later, I'm still suffering some side effects from my chemotherapy treatment. One of the veins in my left arm where I had an infusion has hardened up. When I poke at it, it's hard to the touch, like there's a thin licorice rope in there. The nurses told me I should have had a port-o-cath inserted for chemo and blood draws, and now I understand why. I still have pain in my chest from that hit I took playing hockey early on my treatment. I still don't have a full range of motion with my right arm, even three months later. One of the most annoying side effects is how sensitive my skin has become. If I scratch anywhere on my body, I get red bumpy rashes in that area. Sometimes those scratch marks leave nasty-looking, dark lines. Some old scars have returned. For example, I had a mountain biking accident in the summer of 2008, and scratched up my left arm pretty badly. The marks from that crash have returned on my arm, in the form of darkened lines on my shoulder.
After getting a few weeks off from treatment, my life was starting to feel normal again, but in dealing with all the little inconveniences and idiosyncrasies of cancer treatment, I am reminded just how abnormal my life is right now.
And when I say strapped to the table, I'm not kidding. You saw that funky plastic mask that I was fitted with several weeks back. Well, that funky mask has shrunk a little bit since then. When they bolt the back of it to the table to keep me still, it presses hard against my face. I went through the final stages of mapping today, and had to sit perfectly still on a stiff table for almost two hours. That mask was killing me! It was wrenching my jaw so badly, that halfway through I told the technicians to take it off so my jaw could get a break.
I'm told that I likely won't feel any side effects from my radiation right away. As the weeks go by, however, I will probably get a sore throat because of the radiation that's focused on that area, along with a bit off a gravelly voice. I asked the doc whether any of these affects will be permanent, and he said probably not. He said if I was a professional singer, then it could be an issue, but for an amateur warbler like me, it's typically a non-issue.
Part of my lungs and heart are going to get some radiation, because of where the tumors were located. I am particularly concerned about these areas because I am somewhat of an athlete, and my family has a history of heart problems. Doc says if was a world-class athlete, I can expect some decreased ability because of treatment, but considering I won't be going for any world records anytime soon, I should be okay. I told him that I had long strived to qualify for the Boston Marathon (which would require a 3:20 finish or better), and he said that the scarring that will occur in my lungs from this treatment may affect my ability to run long distances at a pace that would allow me to qualify. Hearing that was a bit of a blow, but I will see how it goes. There are other side effects that I'm concerned about: permanent damage to my thyroid, hair loss on the back of my neck, and of course, the risk of secondary cancers as a result of this treatment.
A month later, I'm still suffering some side effects from my chemotherapy treatment. One of the veins in my left arm where I had an infusion has hardened up. When I poke at it, it's hard to the touch, like there's a thin licorice rope in there. The nurses told me I should have had a port-o-cath inserted for chemo and blood draws, and now I understand why. I still have pain in my chest from that hit I took playing hockey early on my treatment. I still don't have a full range of motion with my right arm, even three months later. One of the most annoying side effects is how sensitive my skin has become. If I scratch anywhere on my body, I get red bumpy rashes in that area. Sometimes those scratch marks leave nasty-looking, dark lines. Some old scars have returned. For example, I had a mountain biking accident in the summer of 2008, and scratched up my left arm pretty badly. The marks from that crash have returned on my arm, in the form of darkened lines on my shoulder.
After getting a few weeks off from treatment, my life was starting to feel normal again, but in dealing with all the little inconveniences and idiosyncrasies of cancer treatment, I am reminded just how abnormal my life is right now.
Bill...I'm so glad I started following your blog. I think about your progress and just love your way of writing. The way you write as though you're just chatting with friends is very endearing.
Just know that you have many people out here who care about you. You're amazing.
xoxo Julia
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Bill--
Just wanted to send out a little love after reading this post. You are a miracle, an amazing human being...don't forget it. And so many people who know you...and who know of you....are surrounding you in unconditional love.
Ann
(former KIRO producer)
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I know you wonder about the affects of the chemo...and if they will ever go away. Trust me, they will fade and yes it does take about a year. My legs are just getting back to where they once were. It will happen. patience. lol I hated it when they said that to me but they were right...patience. You are not alone, you have a fabulous family and all the will in the world...
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Bill - everyone is happy with the progress you've made in your battle with this awful disease! Remember - you need to maintain a good nutritional regiment because these treatments deplete many vitamins and minerals from your system. You might also consider using ALOE based products for your skin. Aloe all by itself is wonderful for your skin. When my mother had an accident (back in the 80s) with a gas oven where the pilot light had gone out and she was trying to relight it) it blew up in her face - she had 2nd degree burns. My father had the presense of mind to put ice on her face but we had an aloe plant and he put that on her skin also. The doctors were surprised that he knew to do that. Because of his quick actions and use of ALOE on her face, she healed with no scarring at all! And her skin was better than ever! So it's something to think about.
Take care
Cynthia
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Hang in there Bill! I really didn't like the mask either. I felt like I couldn't breath so the doctor allowed the nurses to cut a little hole for my lips and the tip of my nose to poke out. Very Hannibal Lechter. Nice. LOL!
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Wow...This is a hard road. Sorry for the rough ride on this one. Surprising that old scars come back; I would have never figured on that one.
How fortunate you were to have great health going into this situation, and now I think it's helping you in this fight, even if it doesn't feel that way. Rest assured you've got this whole region behind you and cheering every day you are there with a quick joke or a patented dry-humored Wixey comment!
Keep your chin up!
KDC
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Hang in there Bill. My sister was SO happy when she got her port that she didn't take it out for years after here chemo. She's been in remission now for 11 years and acts as normal and crazy as she did before she had cancer.
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Bill, I've been following your story and it looks like you are close to the finish line! Good for you and I know you will do well with radiation. Fatigue is better than nausea any day! I may just see you there -- I started my month of radiation today too. I have been battling Grey Zone Lymphoma since before Christmas, which as it turns out, is not nearly as wimpy as plain old Hodgkin's. Six months of chemo, followed by a stem cell transplant, now a month of radiation and next a "mini" transplant. Long year indeed. I'm hopeful though that I can beat it. Thanks for the blogs. I can definitely relate - to your humor and optimism - and experiences! I think I still have waffle face from today's radiation treatment. Take care.
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Hang in there.
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It's another battle in your fight, or a hill in the middle of your race. My husband used to run marathons (he did get to do the Boston), but I wasn't married to him yet. I think I've heard him say "Long slow distance", meaning pacing to go the distance, I think.
Sharing your journey has been incredible for me to read and follow on Q13. Thank you for educating us on all of it and how you feel as you go through it. This last post to your blog breaks my heart, but you, Bill, have the heart to see it through. It takes a lot of heart to be a runner. While you are lying perfectly still maybe you can imagine that you're running a race and follow the road, see the countryside, hear the many people along the way cheering you on.
Seeing you living with cancer has been such an inspiration. I loved that you got to throw out the first ball at the Mariners' game! You did a good job too!
Cheering you on in Kingston,
Marcia
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Dear Bill,
I have come across your blog while searching on Google for radiation therapy... My dad starts with his 5 week long therapy for lung cancer in a few days and it terrifies me.
We always try to be sympathetic and supportive when we learn of someone else's suffering. We truly think we understand. It only hits home when it happens to a loved one, or even worse, to ourselves.
I wish you all the best from the bottom of my heart.
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