Radiation Routine
Ok, here's the skinny on what happens in radiation. I waltz in, go around the corner where there's some ritzy hotel type white bathrobes hanging on hangers on a rack in the hallway past the radiation lunch room. I find the one with my name on it. I have mine on a pink plastic hanger, and usually to the left. I retrieve mine, come back toward the main waiting room, but I get to now go to the "little" waiting room that has two doors next to it. One says, "Men's Dressing Room," and door number two says, "Women's Dressing Room." I have to be very careful that I pick the right door.
Once inside door number two, I need to pick out a clean hospital gown from the shelves to the left. Straight ahead there's two MORE doors. That's where I remove my top, don the gown, (opening in back), then put the robe on over that. Today I was in such a hurry, I forgot the gown! Anyway, once I'm properly dressed, I place my street top in a little cupboard near the gown shelves and emerge from Door Number Two to the tiny waiting room where there might be at most two other ladies in white robes. Oftentimes, I'm the only one. The only time there's a wait is when I forget to bring my reading material. Otherwise, I swear the techs wait until I've dug it all out including the reading glasses, before they say, "OK, Margaret!"
That's when I'm led to this room with 6 feet thick lead walls, hang up the robe and purse, get settled in on this table that has my special mold for my shoulders, arms and head. They even put a pillow under my knees so I'm comfortable. I then get my arms out of the gown, raise them over my head, and grab some bicycle handlebars behind me. At this point they move the top part of the gown to expose the tattoos on both my sides and front, adjust the table, tug on the sheet below to make sure those tattoos are lined up with the lasers from the ceiling and both walls. Now they leave the room, and some big arm that delivers the radiation rotates over me and to my right. Whoops, they do put a 1/4 inch lead plate in front of it so I don't get "burned" from the sides. Yeah, right. I hear the machine making noise for 20 seconds then 17. (Every other day they place a gel-like 12 inch square over the part to be radiated so that the radiation gets fooled into thinking THAT's my skin and then the real surface of my skin gets the heat.)
After the two blasts to my left side from my right side(the window is within 2 inches of my face), the arm moves to straight above. They remove the plate, and I get two whammies straight on. Then the arm swings to the left side and targets my underarm to my collarbone. During all this time, I'm not to move, but I can breathe. When all is done, they come in, yank out the knee pillow, and tell me I'm done. I can then get my shoulders back into their sockets, put my arms back into the sleeves, get up, and leave. Sometimes, after they've got me in position, they'll think to cover up my right side since it's just the left side that's getting the treatment. Otherwise, there's just no such thing as modesty.
One day a week, I have to see the radiologist who just wants to know how bad it is yet. Today, I saw a nutritionist who told me I had to have 87-120 gms. of protein a day during this time. Right. And another day of the week, they take x-rays while I'm on the table to see if they're in the right spot or not.
When I leave, I head back through "Door Number Two" to one of the dressing rooms. I take off the robe and gown, get dressed, throw the gown into a big clothes hamper, put the robe on the hanger, and hang it back in the hallway around the corner. Then I try to find my way out of there and back to my car. The hospital just started a two-year building expansion program, so we never know which door we'll be coming through from one day to the next. At least they put signs in the parking lot reserving the closest spots for us oncology patients.
There's another big waiting room when I first come in, and that's for the folks who don't have to get undressed for their radiology and for everyone's companions, drivers, etc. They get a TV, tables with puzzles, etc. But they don't get the robes!
So far I've had 11 of the 30 to 33 treatments--a third of the way through!
Once inside door number two, I need to pick out a clean hospital gown from the shelves to the left. Straight ahead there's two MORE doors. That's where I remove my top, don the gown, (opening in back), then put the robe on over that. Today I was in such a hurry, I forgot the gown! Anyway, once I'm properly dressed, I place my street top in a little cupboard near the gown shelves and emerge from Door Number Two to the tiny waiting room where there might be at most two other ladies in white robes. Oftentimes, I'm the only one. The only time there's a wait is when I forget to bring my reading material. Otherwise, I swear the techs wait until I've dug it all out including the reading glasses, before they say, "OK, Margaret!"
That's when I'm led to this room with 6 feet thick lead walls, hang up the robe and purse, get settled in on this table that has my special mold for my shoulders, arms and head. They even put a pillow under my knees so I'm comfortable. I then get my arms out of the gown, raise them over my head, and grab some bicycle handlebars behind me. At this point they move the top part of the gown to expose the tattoos on both my sides and front, adjust the table, tug on the sheet below to make sure those tattoos are lined up with the lasers from the ceiling and both walls. Now they leave the room, and some big arm that delivers the radiation rotates over me and to my right. Whoops, they do put a 1/4 inch lead plate in front of it so I don't get "burned" from the sides. Yeah, right. I hear the machine making noise for 20 seconds then 17. (Every other day they place a gel-like 12 inch square over the part to be radiated so that the radiation gets fooled into thinking THAT's my skin and then the real surface of my skin gets the heat.)
After the two blasts to my left side from my right side(the window is within 2 inches of my face), the arm moves to straight above. They remove the plate, and I get two whammies straight on. Then the arm swings to the left side and targets my underarm to my collarbone. During all this time, I'm not to move, but I can breathe. When all is done, they come in, yank out the knee pillow, and tell me I'm done. I can then get my shoulders back into their sockets, put my arms back into the sleeves, get up, and leave. Sometimes, after they've got me in position, they'll think to cover up my right side since it's just the left side that's getting the treatment. Otherwise, there's just no such thing as modesty.
One day a week, I have to see the radiologist who just wants to know how bad it is yet. Today, I saw a nutritionist who told me I had to have 87-120 gms. of protein a day during this time. Right. And another day of the week, they take x-rays while I'm on the table to see if they're in the right spot or not.
When I leave, I head back through "Door Number Two" to one of the dressing rooms. I take off the robe and gown, get dressed, throw the gown into a big clothes hamper, put the robe on the hanger, and hang it back in the hallway around the corner. Then I try to find my way out of there and back to my car. The hospital just started a two-year building expansion program, so we never know which door we'll be coming through from one day to the next. At least they put signs in the parking lot reserving the closest spots for us oncology patients.
There's another big waiting room when I first come in, and that's for the folks who don't have to get undressed for their radiology and for everyone's companions, drivers, etc. They get a TV, tables with puzzles, etc. But they don't get the robes!
So far I've had 11 of the 30 to 33 treatments--a third of the way through!
2 Comments:
I think I'll pass on the ritzy robes. How very descriptive. I know little about radiation treatments. Does it leave painful burns? Other side effects? Sounds like you are keeping a great attitude through it all. Thanks for keeping us informed.
That's a very vivid description. I felt like I was there (unfortunately). All I could think of with the Door No. 2 was the old "Let's Make a Deal" show with Monty Hall. There's something a little surreal about all this cancer-fighting sometimes! Anyway, I hope your many visits translate into great success.
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