Day 1 of Radiotherapy, 34 sessions to go

Day One of the treatments to beat cancer has finally arrived. Arriving at St Vincent's, I could only think about how beautiful a day it was, and perhaps this was a sign of how this is all going to go: Perfectly!

A quick check in at GenesisCare, the private radiation therapy specialists at St Vincent's, handing over some more paperwork, and then it was time to sit and wait. Not really knowing what was going to happen made me a little bit anxious, but I didn't have long to sit and ponder, and before I could get too philosophical, Alex came and found me and walked me through the process. I'm sure she has done it hundreds of times, but I appreciated that she recognised I was a newbie. Maybe it was because every other patient I saw had radiation burns, no hair from chemotherapy, or both. Maybe the ones who still have beards are a standout as newbies. But, I digress.

Alex walked me to the locker room where our masks are kept. I'm in locker 6. It feels weird opening lockers and whoa! having your mask looking back at you. Then it's off to the radiation room (they have two) where there's another doughnut machine waiting for me. But this is the one that fires stuff at me. It's not a scanner like all the others. This is one that is going to do damage to the cancer I have been growing. This machine is going to cause me pain, but it's going to kill the cancer, so it's my best buddy, and I like this machine already. I was introduced to Min, Alex's co-worker. They always have two working together. I'd imagine that's so they can double-check each other. After confirming who I was and where I expected treatment, we moved to an explanation of what was going to happen.

I hopped up onto a gurney, and my mask was placed over my head, neck and shoulders. This was created a few weeks ago, and exactly matches my body. It is designed to keep me rigid so that I do not move. It doesn't feel claustrophobic as it is a mesh, although it is tight enough that I could feel my heartbeat on my neck and face, and it presses on your lips so you can really only grunt. We worked out that a thumbs-up sign meant I was all good.

At this stage, Alex and Min left the room, which means some serious shit was about to happen. My gurney whirred into life and got me into position, then this big photon-shooting-nuclear-canon moved in for a look. Then it started whirring, clicking and humming and moving around for about three minutes. That was it. Anti-climactic, really. 

I got whirred back out, told to hold still while I was lowered to a level I could step off. I didn't realise I had been lifted so high. Alex and Min cheerily waved me goodbye, and said "See you tomorrow"! Out to the waiting room and Claire was there to drive me home. After all the medical buzzing and whirring, it was lovely to see her smile.

Tomorrow, it's another radiotherapy session, then a visit to the cancer centre to see the chemotherapy nurses in preparation for my first 4-hour long chemotherapy session on Wednesday, which is followed by radiotherapy as well. I'm now gently rubbing in copious amounts of QV moisturising cream to stave off the radiation burns and blisters that they have told me will eventually arrive. 

So, no symptoms yet. They said that would start to come in between week 1 and 2. It's scary, worrying, sometimes overwhelming, but at least it's started. Now I'm underway with kicking cancer!
 
 

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