One week down, five to go

Some things I have learned, experienced, and observed during my first week of chemo-radiation.

  • Doctors, nurses and technicians do not talk to each other. On the first day of chemo-radiation, one said “You should not have any effects from the chemo.” Another said “Take the nausea medicine as soon as you get home to stay on top of the side effects.” The third said, “Everyone is different, wait and see what happens.” All within two hours.
  • My nuts hurt. Not both at once (I guess there is a god) but sometimes one, sometimes the other. The tumor (it does not qualify for a name) is near a lot of nerves that go “down there” and at times causes issues. Remember that the tumor is not fixed in place, yes it is fixed in place relative to that part of the colon, but it moves with respect to other parts of my viscera.
  • Twenty-four / seven chemotherapy and daily radiation pretty much sucks as much as you think it would.
  • Having free, priority parking at the big city hospital would be a perk if I was there for a different reason.
  • 10:37 AM has been my favorite time of day since 1973. It was when third period in ninth grade ended and Russian class was over. I will equally remember, but dislike, 1:15 PM as the time for radiation.
  • It is extremely difficult to plan for a full bladder. Following the same routine everyday can have very different results. At least for me.
  • It is fascinating as to who reaches out and who stays silent.
  • Accepting help is difficult for me. Asking for help is virtually impossible. I know I will need to do both in the months to come, not sure how that will work out.
  • Lying on the radiation table and wishing I was dead is extraordinarily ironic.
  • All that radiation and my manhood has yet to start glowing. That would be cool.
  • Going to a fancy hair salon to get your hair washed by a wonderful young lady who everyone says is incredible, and it ends up more a relaxing scalp massage, and your port stays dry, your hair is clean, and they don’t even charge you does not make it worth having cancer, but it comes close.

A rather forward woman, wearing a rather large religious symbol, gave me advice on my prayers, and it must have been the radiation or something, but I really thought she asked me the name of my chemo drug. I answered her question.

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1 thought on “One week down, five to go

  1. “Lying on the radiation table and wishing I was dead is extraordinarily ironic.” I like this. I have a very dark sense of humor.

    I had a patient about a month ago, very sick with lymphoma, and we were putting a central line in him. He turned to me and said, “Just kill me”. Broke my heart.

    I can’t only imagine how awful it is going through cancer treatment.

    Take care.

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