How it works is I go in everyday. They lay me down, put my mask on me (I can't remember if I mentioned that I had a mold of my face made! It's so cool. When i'm done with it, i'm totally gonna plaster and frame it and put it on the wall! haha.) they use lasers to line everything up, so they can be very precise. They do a CT scan every day (non-diagnostic, so it's a mild CT scan.) and then they treat me for 6 minutes. 6 minutes seems so insignificant in the grand scheme of a day, but it's not entirely pleasant. I find that the lights probably start about 1 minute in, then the smell follows around minute number 2. By minute 4 both the lights and smell are gone, and it's just a funny noise I hear. 6 minutes go by quickly. I have found lots of things to think about in those minutes.
I've actually taken quite an interest in the mechanics of radiation therapy, and am considering pursuing it as a profession. The people who operate the machine i'm treated with (and i'm told by a friend who works at the hospital that i'm very lucky to be on this machine...there is quite a waiting list.) are my age! They are very nice people, and i've learned that it's more a technical job than an actual hands-on healthcare job. A job I think I could do. My mom is right on board with me pursuing it, so something to consider when i'm done with my post-treatment living spree.
As I draw closer to the end of this saga, i'm realizing how truly blessed I have been to be able to walk around and be "normal". Even though I wasn't able to work, or go to the gym, or leave town or anything, I was lucky to be able to go shopping and see hockey games, etc. It was when I walked to an event at the Cancer Centre the other day, and introduced myself to someone and they said "you're a supporter?" (meaning a family memeber of a sick person) that I realized how lucky I am. I get to walk around everyday, without people even noticing that i'm sick. And I have been very sick.
I reflected today with my mom about how very sick I was, in February. My poor body was fighting with all it had, to keep me functioning. I functioned until I was admitted into the hospital and slipping into a coma. My body walked me to emergency, when I should have been paralyzed by seizures. Even with the amount of energy the seizures drained from me, I spent days going to appointments, tests, etc. There was this huge tumor pushing against my brain...trying so hard to finish me off, and I just kept living. I was defying natural law. My body was just so strong....i'm so lucky for that.
Even in the midst of chemo, my hair has started growing back! This is a good thing and a bad thing. I kind of liked that it all fell out! I didn't have to shave my legs or my armpits and of course...down there was silky smooth. With that, though, I had a reflective skull. haha. I went bald for the first time, last week. It's not even a big deal for me, anymore. I remember at the begining of this, I couldn't imagine why people would walk around like that...looking like a cancer patient. Now I realize that it's not something I should try to hide. It's something I should be proud of. I have cancer, and i'm part of a society. I get up everyday and do my chores, go to my sister's sporting events, etc. like any other person...and so what? I happen to have cancer. It's very freeing, being bald. Also, sometimes it gets very tiring explaining to people that i'm sick. This way, they look at me and realize that i'm not bald by choice and just don't ask. haha.
I see a light at the end of the tunnel, right now. I know if I can just hold out a little longer, this will all be over before I know it! It seems so selfish of me to be worried about going back to work and wanting to get back to normal, because I will never be normal again. I will forever have to have tests done, to make sure I stay healthy. I will worry, every time I get a headache or dizzy spell, a sore throat or runny nose. This is a fact. I'm not normal anymore. From the second I was diagnosed, I lost that status. Even when I talk about other people and their treatment, I get reminded "Yes, but your cancer is different."
I am laying the groundwork for my book. I've contacted a friend who I know had a book regarding cancer published, and asked for any pointers. I've also taken the initiative to talk to someone in the school board about doing some speaking to young students. I know my sister particularly has had a very tough year. She has seen her friends' parents die, her friends die, her sister get sick, etc. It seems that kids her age are surrounded by cancer related deaths, and I feel that what I have to talk about could really make them feel better about it. Cancer isn't easy to handle. It's devastating, but i'm still standing and I think that it's important to use that to inspire people to get involved in fighting the epidemic.
They say that everybody knows somebody who is affected by cancer. This is a huge understatement. Before I myself had cancer, I didn't realize it, but I could probably name 25 people I knew that had cancer. Over 60% of the population will have cancer in their lifetime. That means that over 3.5 billion people who are living right now, will be diagnosed in the next 25 years. This is truly an epidemic, and I believe that education is the most important thing for the young generation. How amazing would it be if I could help to educate them?
So that was a tangent, but I felt that after my last post I needed to take a moment and reflect upon what i've accomplished over the past few months, and where I will be in a month. If anyone reading wants to get involved in charities or support groups or anything, drop me an e-mail because I know all the right people for that. Don't wait for it to happen to you.