Radioactive

  

   

When we first started this journey, the end of radiation treatment seemed so far away. 30 sessions might not seem like a lot, especially when you’re having them back to back, Monday through Friday, with the exception of holidays, or machine maintenance, both of which prolonged the treatment, as well as some pretty crazy forest fires. So what should have been finished at the end of my sixth week, ended up being day three of week seven. But I’m a trooper, so let’s carry on.

From the moment that I walked into the hospital on the last day, I felt lighter. I have struggled from the start with how I physically feel, with extreme exhaustion. I didn’t think it could get worse than it had been a few weeks ago, but I was wrong. I’ve napped more in the last two weeks than I probably have in my whole life. I am ridiculously ecstatic that I don’t have to wake up at 5am to go and have radiation treatments.

It’s crazy how close you become to the staff at the hospital. From the exact same security guard, the exact same covid screener, to our favourite receptionist, the clerks at the radiation desk who check you in (after the first week I didn’t have to give them my name or tell them that I needed a proof of appointment slip, they just knew). The radiation technicians were wonderful. Within the first two weeks, I had met all of them in H6, which was my radiation room. Every Wednesday we met with nurses that worked with my radiation oncologist. They were WONDERFUL. And only on two occasions did we actually see the radiation oncologist.

When I checked in with the clerk at the radiation desk, she congratulated me right away. I sat in the waiting room where I can see H6 and can see when the technician is coming for me. I recognized her right away and even though she was wearing a mask I could tell she was grinning underneath. She had been with me since day one and she has watched me suffer, lose my hair, and here we were, finally, at the last treatment. She and another technician got me prepped and left the room. I kept my eyes closed and listened to the loud noises the machine made. And then I felt the table lower and heard the click of my mask being taken off. After a quick tutorial of showing them how to wrap my head in the scarf, they gave me hugs, handed me my mask and sent me back to the waiting room to wait and see the nurse and doctor for one last check in.

This time we waited a lot longer than usual, though we had an interesting encounter with a musician who played at The Port Grocer. I recognized him when he took his mask down to take a sip of his coffee. Jacob thought I was high, but then he started to watch too. I saw his eyes widen and he leaned forward. I was certain that I was correct. Jacob has no problem speaking to anyone and he asked if he played with the band I mentioned and he said that he did. That was one of the best “I Told You So” moments that I’ve ever had.

We were finally brought to see my favourite nurse (If I’d have had anyone else, I would’ve requested further treatment until she was available). I had been having some negative affects of being off of the steroids ie. headaches that were persistent, ringing in the ears, exhaustion. She agreed the doctor would likely want to put me back on the steroid, which I was okay with. I should have remembered going manic the first time. Whoops.

The doctor came in. He did want me to go on the lowest dose of the steroid for five days to see if it helped, with orders to call the nurses line on day five to see how it was affecting me. I asked about future radiation sessions. He informed me that I had already had the maximum amount of radiation that my brain can handle and from here on out I would be being seen by Chemotherapy Oncology as that would be my treatment plan. Hopefully I won’t need the IV infusions and will be able to stay on the chemo pill instead. We won’t know for certain until the end of June, after a follow up MRI. Either way, I’m going to continue to fight for my family and for myself, too.

Leaving the hospital was very surreal. As I previously said, the hospital staff becomes family; knowing at that moment that the people I became so close with in Radiology, I likely wouldn’t see again, kind of hurt my heart a bit. As we pulled out of the hospital parking lot, I was overwhelmed with so many feelings that I became so tired. Of course it would be the last day of treatment, that I would forget to pack a pillow. At least I have a month of rest ahead of the next battle.