A Tale of Radiation - Part II

Sim? What is a sim? I soon found out. Noel, lead me back to a room behind a door with the big radiation warning symbol. The door should should have also had a sign advising unsuspecting souls of a severe climate change. The room was kept at frigid, sub-arctic temperatures. Noel explained that the room was kept at a low temperature to protect the medical equipment (never mind the poor ailing patients!) I had to undress from the waist up and lie down on a hard platform. Noel put a blanket over my lower body and was able to partially cover the left side of my upper body, but I was so cold my teeth were chattering and I was literally shaking.

The purpose of this suffering was to perform a "sim"ulation of the radiation and to obtain some films using a CAT screen. Noel asked me to put my right arm above and behind me. I couldn't do it - my arm just wasn't ready to comply with this request. Noel expressed the importance of getting my arm out of the field of radiation, and I certainly understood this, but try telling my arm that. I asked him if he encountered unreasonable arms frequently, and he said it really wasn't very common. Then it dawned on me. Of course he doesn't run into reluctant arms very often. Most breast cancer patients have surgery, then months of chemo, and then radiation. Consequently most breast cancer patients have at least six or seven months to recover range of motion in their arms. I had only had seven weeks. This insight didn't help matters, but it made me feel better about my inability to comply with the seemingly reasonable request.

Noel seemed stumped so he retrieved the doctor. She stood above me and told me that I just had to get my arm to go back. She squinted at me and twisted her mouth and repeated questions I had just answered not 30 minutes earlier, "Now when was your last chemotherapy session again?" I meekly responded, "October 4." "And when was your surgery?" she continued. "November 1" I replied as if this was something to be ashamed of. "Well, we really can't wait any longer. You need to get your arm back." I told her that I, too, wanted to get the radiation started but that I could only force my arm back so far.

She stayed in the room and tried to help Noel situate me in such a way that my arm wasn't in the field of radiation. I gritted my chattering teeth and pushed my body to the limits of my pain threshold. (I told myself that if I could have three babies without a single epidural, I could endure this, but at least when I was in childbirth, I was rewarded each time with a beautiful baby boy. I actually tried to employ some of the pain management techniques I learned in Lamaze class.) I finally got my arm out of the "hot" zone. The doctor departed, and Noel sympathetically told me that he would go as quickly as he could.

I was probably in the North Pole about 45 minutes, and for that entire time, my arm was screaming out for mercy. I was rearranged a couple of times, decorated with magic markers, tatooed with two tiny dots of black ink, mechanically propelled in and out of the CAT screen machine, photographed, and constantly reassured that it wouldn't be much longer. Finally, I heard the best news I had heard in a really long time when Noel informed me, "You can put your arm down and get dressed."

Back in a temperate climate, Noel and I discussed next steps. I was to come back next Thursday to complete the sim. At that time, they would continue to take more measurements and would give me a third tatoo. Since they didn't want to do radiation for just one day before the long New Year's weekend, they would begin the actual radiation treatments the following week. Okay, now I am not the brightest person in the world, but wasn't the doctor just making it sound like I was knocking on death's door if we didn't get radiation started immediately? I posed the question a little differently to Noel. "The doctor seemed to have a strong sense of urgency about getting the radiation treatments started as quickly as possible. Why the delay?" I asked. Noel explained that some calculations had to be completed before I could come in for the next step and that due to the holidays, the necessary information wouldn't be available until next Thursday. We also talked about available appointment times for my radiation treatments, and I told him that none of them were very desirable as they were in the middle of the day and would interfere with my work. He said that as other patients completed their radiation treatments, different appointment times would open up. We confirmed my appointment time and wished eachother a Merry Christmas

So almost two hours after I had entered the office for what I thought would be a simple appointment, I made it back out to my car. I called Bo, and the second I heard his voice, I lost it. I broke down into tears. These weren't gentle, delicate tears, daintily trailing down your face tears. This was an all out red and swollen-eyed sob fest right out there in the parking lot.

To be continued...