Radio 1- or not!

Well I certainly enjoyed the break between Chemo and Radiotherapy. When this treatment plan was originally explained to me, I'd hoped one kind of treatment would just merge into the next. I was disappointed to learn there had to be a break. I guess my reasoning was that chemo made me feel grim and Radio would make me feel grim. So I may as well have one long, continuous crock of grimness and get it over with! However, I do now understand the need for the recovery time. And bit by bit, day by day I started to feel better and have more energy as my body became free of the chemicals. It felt like waking up after a  long sleep. And somehow the world started to look like a brighter, more colourful and happier place. There was lots of fun during this time- humour is healing in itself. And I found myself enjoying doing things I'd previously seen as chores.

However, finally it was time to start Radiotherapy and off we went to the Rosemere Centre in Preston. I'd previously been to this department for my pre-treatment CT Scan and had been struck by the sheer size of this unit. I'd also been relieved to find there were smaller areas within the vastness of the provision. And the friendly café, run by volunteers is at the heart of the waiting area. This space does indeed feel more like a coffee shop than a hospital waiting room. The day I went to start Radio, we were sent down to the waiting area for one of the eight treatment machines they have in the department. During the introductory chat with one of the radiographers, we learned that up to 200 people a day receive radiotherapy at this hospital. There is also a chemotherapy unit on the floor above. One of the things that has struck me throughout my treatment has been the sheer number of people receiving cancer treatment. Its such a taboo subject that is seldom spoken of except in hushed tones- and with little optimism. Now I realise this is so common. And there was me thinking I was special!

As Chris settled down with a cuppa and a copy of The People's Friend, I was invited through to the little vestibule changing room and given a gown. Now its not that I'd been listening to concerns about 'the rays' but when I discovered the wrap-around gown had 3 arm holes I confess I was a bit concerned. What mutation was this treatment going to cause?! (Best of all is that I get to keep the gown throughout my treatment so we can have hours of fun at home with it!)  

Next I was taken through to another big machine and invited to climb on board. Lying in masonic pose with just my left breast exposed, the technicians set about marking my body for treatment based on the measurements taken during my previous scan. Numbers were shouted across my body and I felt as though I was being prodded but it tickled too. Then I suddenly realised they were drawing all around by breast. It really had the feel of some weird student drinking game and I decided the best thing to do was probably close my eyes and explore one of the places I go to during meditation. I had no sooner set off across the meadow towards the mighty oak tree when the guy in charge explained he wasn't happy with the measurements. Another radiographer was called and then another, then another. Eventually, they decided between them that the original measurements and treatment plan weren't quite right and it was best not to go ahead and start the Radiotherapy. I was sent back out to the waiting room and someone went off to see if they could rescan me that afternoon. As we'd been there much longer than expected, Chris had to leave to get to work so left me on the unit.

Fortunately, a slot was found for me to have the necessary scan without too much of a wait and before I knew it, there I was lying on another slab with two lovely folks scrubbing the pen marks off my chest and side. Once the scan was completed I was given a new start date for just a few days later and allowed on my way. This was when I realised I'd left my coat and money in Chris's car! I'd planned to walk up to the main road and get a bus into Preston then either a bus or train to Chorley. No way did I have the energy to walk and I didn't rate my chances of passing motorists picking up a bald hitchhiker in grey joggers looking for all the world like an escapee from an institution!

As I sat in the waiting room I felt a rather familiar sensation creep up on me, some old stuff- abandonment, alonenesss, rejection? The one thing I knew was that it was most definitely old stuff! Two lovely friends contacted me to offer to come to pick me up. So no way was I abandoned. However, there was old self-doubt stuff floating around which was rooted in some kind of fear. So I decided to stay where I was and look it in the eye. Plus, sitting in a waiting room of cancer patients would surely give me some perspective and make me count my blessings! So I arranged for Chris to pick me up on her way back from The Hub, got myself a nice cup of free tea from the lovely folks in the café and sat just being for an hour or so. Looking into the greyness allowed me to see that familiar sensation for what it was- old, in fact probably ancient, hurt. The thought chain to this hurt has been rattled over the last couple of years by exposure to incompatibility of expectations around 'friendship'. I give thanks for this experience now as it has allowed me to reaffirm some core-value personal stuff while accepting others may have different values. Whilst I reserve the right to take care of my own wellbeing through distance and removing myself from the source of pain, it is not for me to judge others who do not share my values. For some, the need not to need anyone stifles the potential for trust, love and the beautiful gift of being able to make the time to walk with others as equals. I love and cherish those gifts. By the time Chris came to pick me up, I'd looked into the fear and sent it packing. Another beautiful gift in this 'health stuff' situation!


This little set back gave me another few days respite from treatment and I had a thoroughly lovely weekend of Sound Baths, Drumming and pottering at home. By the start of the following week, I was feeling as 'normal' as I can remember feeling! Like before treatment started but even better with an improved diet, no alcohol and an awareness of the need to rest before I need to. I even had a day of gardening and took a van load of rubbish to the skip. And the new, sensible me chose to stop before I was completely knackered and have a snuggled up evening by the fire.

And finally it was time to start Radiotherapy- and I went to this treatment alone as Chris was working. I was so impressed with the thoroughness once again as each measurement was carefully checked to ensure the treatment was as effective and safe as possible. In some ways the radiotherapy was a bit of an anti-climax after all the thrutching around shouting out numbers, scribbling on my body and ensuring I was in exactly the right position and was taking exactly the right length of in-breath. However, I am aware of the build-up effects of this treatment and won't be adding it to my list of favourite things along with 'raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens' any time soon. I'm happy to continue the dance for another three weeks and my outstanding memory from Radiotherapy treatment 1 was when two young men were manoeuvring and drawing on my left breast. Suddenly there was a rather firm bit of poking which made me smile. The young man responsible reassured me "that's just my ruler you're feeling there!" Oh I say!

 

Liz x