Stories from the Waiting Room

Bobbie's husband was originally diagnosed with contact dermatitis. It was at her insistence that the hospital scanned him, at which point they discovered he had cancer.

When the nurse technician shows up to give Bobbie a hand to get to the radiation room (she's a little unsteady on her feet) I yell out "It's show time Bobbie!" and she gives her best interpretation of a high kick - her foot maybe makes it 10" off the ground.

This week we've been joined regularly by a woman I've mentally nick-named "Cancer Girl." A breast cancer patient like me, she's one of those people who has readily embraced the cancer treatment lifestyle. She knows everything there is to know about traditional and alternative healthcare options at the hospital. She has a lot of tips on managing side effects. She has a strong POV on the perfect headgear and where to get it. I'm confident she'll be all over the Race for the Cure next year.

I suspect there's two types of cancer patient: those like Cancer Girl for whom this experience has provided a whole new community, a sense of focus and a way of life; and people like me who really want to get out of this club as soon as humanly possible.

Here's to January 3rd, when I will become a civilian again.

Fade Away and Radiate

I just juiced up the following cleansing concoction recommended by my friend and colleague, Pat:

bunch of kale
bunch of romaine lettuce
lemon
1/2 apple
knob of ginger

It's delicious, actually. Hopefully I'll be cleansed of radiation (week one), the Portland Advertising Federation award show celebrations and all the crap I've eaten of late.

As for radiation, its been a mildly entertaining and totally side-effect-free week. Almost disappointing. Since my only reference for radiation is early James Bond movies, I was expecting a bright orange beam of searing light and the smell of burning flesh. In fact, the only evidence that anything is happening is a buzzing sound as the machine zaps the offending breast six times - three on each side. The whole process (set up and zapping) takes maybe three minutes.

The distractions they provide in the room include a picture of Mount St Helens in spring on the ceiling, which I think is really funny - it is, after all, a large breast-shaped object with a big chunk blown out the side with some steam emerging from the crater. There's also music playing - this week it ranged from a Bollywood soundtrack to Free Bird (which almost had me crying with laughter.)

In truth most of the action takes place in the waiting room. One of my regular radiation companions is Bobbie - an older, lung cancer patient. She used to be a dancer. And she can't believe she's receiving treatment in the hospital that killed her husband. Also, she kept all her hair as it fell out and was surprised to discover it only weighed four ounces.

Sooooo, so far so good. Apparently the side effects (burning and fatigue) might become more apparent in week three. More on that later.

Diversions V

:: Quantum of Solace - get to the theater immediately. HOT. I mean SIZZLING.
:: Lake Oswego High School's spirited performance of The Wizard of Oz - final performances on Thursday and Saturday of this coming week. Special mention goes to my nine-year-old friend Forrest Johnson for his rousing interpretation of a Munchkin.
:: Atwater Place - if you have a spare $900K or so, help me out, would you, and buy a condo in this magnificent building at South Waterfront. It's a client of NORTH (my place of work.)

Tatts

So I got "mapped" on Tuesday. This involved lying very still while Dr. Bader marked me up with a Sharpie (or medical equivalent) before a nurse technician (they call her "The Wasp...") gave me four little tattoos - either side of the offending breast and either side at the bottom of my rib cage. I also got a CT scan.

The radiology office is all about efficiency. On arrival you grab a gown, get changed, leave your stuff in a locker and take a seat in the waiting room (which has a TV...) There are two cameras in the waiting room so the technicians can see when you've arrived and ready. A little bit "Big Brother."

My first "zap" is on Monday. I'll describe that process thereafter.

Treatment Continued....

I met with Dr. Bader (radiologist) this afternoon. He's anxious to get going with radiation soon because of the size of the tumor (largish) and my age (youngish.) So I go in next week for measuring up, tattoos etc and they'll start zapping on the 17th. Treatment will probably last six and a half weeks - 10 minutes every day, five days a week - which is a little longer than standard, again because of the tumor size/age factors. And so it remains only for me to get the port removed and pick a super power :)

Election Euphoria

After drinking 853 glasses of champagne last night, I announced my candidacy for US Senate in 2012. This morning I realized a key impediment to this plan: I am not a citizen. I guess I'll have to review Schwarzenneger's path to US government success for tips and inspiration (acknowledging that he's on the other team.)

Completely Unrelated

Poor Annie will be joining me on the couch for a while. She sliced open some of the webbing on her foot this morning while on one of her more enthusiastic walks. Actually she embraces pretty much all activities with boundless enthusiasm, which is why it's a little sad to see her all drugged up and sacked out.

Separately, why is it that all veterinarian bills net out at around $200?