A story of malfunctioning radiation machines and hair growth

Hi. I have to say that time is moving much faster now during radiation (and Halloween and Thanksgiving and all the school things) than it did during chemo. It felt much harder to knock out 8 sessions of chemotherapy than it does going everyday for radiation. But I'm also like a hardened cancer criminal now ... And this is an endurance race. 

I completed round #20 of radiation today. There have been a few hiccups with the machine either breaking before I get there or while I'm on the table, stretched out like a bug on an entomology display. The past two days they've had to reschedule my appointments... Which again makes me wonder how anyone continues to work during treatment. God bless the good bosses out there. (I have also been blessed with the most understanding employers as I take time off, never any pressure to do more than I can.) 

Several times I've been mid treatment and there's either a component of the machine that isn't working or the main computer needs to be rebooted. When someone tells you to lay completely still ... And then that time just goes on and on... First my nose itches. Then my foot. Then I have a twitch in my eye. Then a wedgie. Then a cramp in my arm. You can imagine where this is going. I'm getting a true lesson in *stillness* and focus. 

As for side effects, my skin is turning variant shades of red and purple. My skin is also tightening - the best way to explain it is that my skin has lost flexibility. If I move or stretch too far, my side and chest tend to say, "Umm no. That's not gonna work." It's more irritation than pain - and if I can get through this without blistering or breaking the skin, I'm going to consider it a success. 

In the coming months, I'll be hyper aware of signs of lymphedema, lung issues and pain in my esophagus. Issues with shoulder pain and permanent skin changes are always a possibility. Isn't modern medicine fun? It's my fault for asking (and researching) all of the possible problems... But it's served me well to be more informed than not. 

I included a recent picture of my hair, which is actually from over two weeks ago and I have more growing! It's soft and becoming a little unruly... I haven't woken up to bedhead in over 7 months, so it's kind of exciting! This will be a whole learning process on how to move from short hair to longer hair gracefully. Tips and barber recommendations are welcome. 

Where radiation and MAGA hats meet

I completed day 10 of radiation... I wish the doctor had never suggested that I might be a candidate for 15-25 rounds, because now the grand total of 30 seems so very, very far away! 

Everyone has been checking in - asking questions about whether I have any pain or irritation yet. The answer is: not yet!! I've been applying lotion several times a day as a preventative measure. Although I think radiation effects people in different ways, regardless of what one does to mitigate the damage. Some burn, some do not. My mother in law bought me a lotion from France that has excellent reviews... It smells nice and I consider my applications to be little moments of self care. They also can't hurt helping my scars from surgery. 

And whether it helps or not, I've been drinking alkaline water and trying to stay hydrated. 

Now what is radiation like? I didn't know what it entailed before lying down in the machine myself and it may also be very different in regards to what body part is being targeted. 

I have four little freckle tattoos that were placed a few weeks before this started. They measure your body and make these marks easy to find, as I can imagine that would waste so much time finding those spots again and again for daily treatment. The techs always say "19.5" when I lay down on the table and adjust me to line up under a red laser cross hatch. I still don't know when the actual radiation is being released from the machine because there's noise and rotation and little metal pieces opening, closing and moving. 

Imagine a frog on a dissection tray - that's how I feel on the table. I place my arms above my head (that's still a difficult movement for me, but it's improving) and turn my head away from my right side. They tape a sensor to my stomach, used to gauge how deep a breath I've taken every time they speak from the other room, "Take a breath... Hold... Breathe". If I cough or move or expand my lungs while the radiation is flowing, it will trigger an error and turn off. This is reassuring to me that they are trying their best to avoid damage to my lungs. 

The whole process takes about ten minutes. I take many deep breaths and hold them... Feeling like I did when I was little, holding my breath under water at the pool; keeping track of the seconds with my father's Casio glow in the dark digital watch. I hold my breath and count, feeling that low grade burn in my lungs. The machine has three main parts, they swirl around like you are about to launch into space. 

Every day I try to visualize something different and hope that these radioactive waves are finding any sneaky bastard micro metasteses that are hiding. I may or may not imagine that these cancer cells are wearing red MAGA hats and we're eliminating their awfulness one by one. I visualized that they were invited to a drag queen story hour and came to the realization that it's just one human reading to little humans and as they saw the positivity, removed their MAGA hats and threw them in the garbage. Wouldn't that be amazing? Just a little bit of progress? 

Anyways, these vignettes in my brain help me during the process. My wishful energy for the world and my body to heal. What would you visualize? Laying on a kayak in the ocean? Floating in space? Picking cancer cells off with a gun at laser tag?