My fried boob
22 Feb 2011 7 Comments
in breast cancer, coping, side effects, treatment Tags: breast cancer, coping, treatment
I was a radiation rock star. After 16 of 19 treatments, my skin looked tan. No itching. No burning. No noticeable fatigue. I naively thought I was escaping the negative side-effects of radiation.
The last three treatments were “boost” doses. For women with early-stage breast cancer, treated with breast-conserving lumpectomy and radiation, for women like me, an additional “boost” dose of radiation to the original tumor site has been found to reduce the risk of cancer returning in the same breast.
My final treatment was last Wednesday. No changes on Thursday. Everything was still fine on Friday. However, by Saturday, it looked like I had ironed my chest. When I was a high school senior, after a brainless episode involving baby oil, a bikini, Atlantic Beach, and more than 20 hours in the sun, I had the worst case of sunburn anyone has ever experienced. My current condition tops even the disastrous incident of 1982.
I am truly miserable. I can’t even wear a bra, and unlike some women, I hate not wearing a bra. I’m hardly a rock star. More like a feminist lobster.
18 down, 1 to go
15 Feb 2011 6 Comments
in breast cancer, treatment, update Tags: breast cancer, treatment
Tomorrow, February 16, 2011, is my final radiation treatment! Hurray!
It almost feels surreal that the end is here. I praise God for the conclusion of cancer treatments. I’m looking forward to pursuing some semblance of a normal routine. Unfortunately, even in times of good health and relative calm, “normal” has always eluded me. Perhaps this fresh start will give me an advantage.
Thank you for your encouragement over the past six months. I never could have faced this journey without your prayers, words of inspiration and hope, and practical help.
The Radiation Experience
09 Feb 2011 5 Comments
in breast cancer, treatment Tags: breast cancer, holy cross, treatment
14 down. Five to go.
I go for radiation Monday through Friday, usually at 1:00 p.m. One of the radiation therapists calls me from the waiting room and walks me down the hall, through their control room, and into the therapy room. My name is on one of those binders above the computers and other equipment. The therapists, physicians, and nurses meticulously record all procedures, observations, test results, and details related to each patient’s treatment.
Radiation therapists Jerri & Tim
As I head into the treatment room, I pass through this vault-like door. Once the machine’s settings are correct and I’m in position on the treatment table, the therapists return to their control room and lock this door between them and the radiation (and me).
I change into a hospital gown behind the screen on the far side of the room.
The radiation machine
As I lie on the table on my back, one of the therapists positions the blue foam thing under my knees. The other therapist makes sure my head is turned slightly to the right. I hold the two vertical white bars to keep my arms in position over my head. A therapist maneuvers my body so I’m slightly on my right side. She marks my skin with a marker, emphasizing my little freckle tattoos to ensure that the radiation beam goes precisely to the right location.
My view once I'm in position: The collimator (I think)
Once every detail is perfect, the therapists leave me alone as they return to the control room, locking the vault door behind them. The enormous machine buzzes as it rotates around me. I can’t feel anything at all; it’s like getting an x-ray. I just lie perfectly still (Well, you know, as “perfectly still” as I get). The actual treatment process barely takes five minutes. The therapists return and lower the table. I dress and drive the 30 minutes back to North Raleigh.
Carolyn & the radiation machine
Sylvia is my friend from church who was diagnosed with breast cancer just a few weeks after I was. She’s undergoing a similar course of radiation as I am, but her regular appointments are at 10:00 a.m., so I don’t usually get to see her. I needed to go early today, so it was a happy blessing to run into her at the radiology office.
Carolyn & Sylvia
Lucky 13
08 Feb 2011 4 Comments
in breast cancer, family, side effects, treatment, update Tags: breast cancer, family, holy cross, pets, treatment
Today I had my 13th radiation treatment. Only six more to go!
I took Lily’s small digital camera with me today so I could show you what the equipment, room, and machine look like. Of course, the camera battery was dead. I’ll try again tomorrow.
So far, I have encountered minimal reactions to the radiation. My skin just looks tanned, not red at all. I’m nowhere near as tired as I was during chemo. I may have some swelling, but no pain.
Zoe & Lucy
In the mean time, my mom is doing well, Lily has a bad case of the yucky upper respiratory gunky gunk, Silas has been astounding me with his knowledge of electricity, we hope we’re getting a dog, Lucy and Zoe do not want a dog, the Sigmon guys are building our fence, and Paul is speaking at our church this Sunday.
The memorial service – Uncle Elwood’s version
01 Feb 2011 Leave a Comment
in encouragement, family Tags: encouragement, faith, family
Uncle Elwood circa 1950
I had heard the story many times. How Dad had nervously journeyed from the balcony at the old Tabernacle Baptist Church to the front of the church, responding in faith to Christ. How his older brother Elwood had joined him along the way to stand beside him. However, I had never heard Elwood’s version.
Richard circa 1950
Uncle Elwood shared this familiar story at Dad’s memorial service. For weeks, he had wanted to demonstrate his faith by going forward during the hymn of invitation, but he said he had struggled to find the courage. Seeing his “baby” brother bravely going forward gave him the confidence he lacked. Uncle Elwood said he was thankful that Dad had helped him at such a pivotal crossroads in his life.
Uncle Elwood and my cousins David and Ken related many accounts of how Dad had helped them and others. Dad was, indeed, generous and kind. I doubt he ever considered himself especially “courageous,” but Uncle Elwood viewed him as brave that particular morning at Tabernacle Baptist Church.
Dad could have provided countless examples of how Elwood and others had helped him along the way and how they had given him courage on many occasions. What a positive example these brothers are for all of us.
Sometimes we need a brother (or a sister or a friend) to show us the way, to come alongside and walk with us, giving us strength and courage. Sometimes we lead by example, encouraging others to be brave.
I’m thankful for my heritage of faith and for these role models. I’m reminded that God gives us others when we need support (as I often have in recent months) and that we can be a source of strength for someone else, sometimes without even realizing the impact of our actions or words.
Elwood, Albert, James, Richard, Grace, Ma Wrenn, Dot circa 1970
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