Photo by Dogancan Ozturan on Unsplash
If you’re arriving here for the first time, it’s probably because I sent out an email inviting friends and family to these specific blog posts focused on my cancer treatment (I’m hoping, at some point, they might be useful for someone with a similar diagnosis). The link that I sent out only points to posts focused on my treatment, and they won’t be viewable from the front page of my main blog; I didn’t want them taking over what’s already there. If you’re new to blogs, remember that posts populate in a “newest, first” style, so, if you want to read these posts in order, go back to that list and start at the bottom.
TL;dr version of my day yesterday: my treatment begins on Monday, Feb. 10, and all current tests show that I’m otherwise healthy and ready to start treatment.
I had a full day yesterday. My doctors wanted me to get a PET scan to rule out that my cancer had moved beyond my lymph nodes). They also scheduled something called a CT/simulation in which nurses build the epoxy mask that you wear to keep your head in place during radiation and then do some CT imagining in that mask. Because one of the appointments was cancelled by last week’s Atlanta snow day, both of them were scheduled on the same day but in different parts of the city, one in the morning and one in the afternoon.
The first part of the adventure was transportation. As you’ll know if you’ve been reading my regular blog for any amount of time, I’ve been car-less by choice for nearly a year. I had several friends and family willing to take me to these appointments, but I chose to do them myself and use MARTA. All of that went great. I was out the door at 6am to catch a bus and then the train St. Joseph’s Hospital in Sandy Springs (Medical Center station); later in the morning I was back on the train to get to the Emory Proton Center in Midtown (North Avenue station). Both locations were within a couple of blocks of a MARTA with plenty of time in between appointments.
Secondly, these appointments were, I think, an important experience for me to have on my own, and there were some appropriately challenging moments that I think I could have glossed over had I been with someone else. At one point, I had a weird overwhelming feeling of being called a “cancer patient” for the first time; at another point I sat in a lobby and watched several people, old and young, come out of their final radiation treatment appointments and ring a bell with staff and family around to cheer them. I observed all of this carefully. Slowly. I’m taking it in because these seem like important moments for realization, adjustment, gratitude, or just . . . breathing through it.
Today, all the information came back from those appointments: my cancer has not moved anyone else in my body beyond my throat and my lymph nodes; my blood levels all look healthy to proceed with treatment; my insurance company is denying the doctors’ requests to use proton beam therapy so, the medical team is moving forward with planning for photon therapy (this will be whole other post at some point); and, my seven weeks of M-F treatment will begin on Monday, Feburary 10. This feels like enormous progress, and it’s only one week delayed from our original plan.
Lastly, I’ll offer something especially for anyone who is preparing to go through this experience. I’ve practiced meditation on and off my whole life, and, as I’ve prepared to head into treatment, I’ve been spending more time with it. Several times yesterday I had to sit very still in an uncomfortable position, or listen to something that was challenging, or just, pass a quiet hour on my own with a bunch of emotions. Focusing on my breathing and on centering my attention has been really helpful in these times, and I would recommend experimenting with some kind of practice like that for anyone getting ready for cancer treatment. I’ve been a big fan of Jon Kabat-Zinn’s work for years, and his book Full Catastrophe Living is a great introduction to the health benefits of mindfulness and stress reduction.
