Tag: radiation

Radiation Ends on July 18, 2022

On July 18, 2022

In Health/Medicine, Science and Medicine, Texas

I had my final radiation session (of 33) today at Trinity Hospital (Unity Point). It is July 18, 2022, and my birthday is in 5 days.

The staff has you ring a bell (which I had never noticed before today) and I was given a small stone engraved with Courage, Love, Strength and a card with what looked to be about 30 names.

I have been driving down to Trinity at a quarter to 1 p.m. every week day since May, with a hiatus after session 19 when we went to Texas for our Family Fest (family reunion).

During the sessions, I have gotten to know Brie, Lora, Alysson, Susan and some of the other technicians and they have performed admirably. Alyssa will graduate this coming Thursday from her online university program in radiology.

I wanted to take something to the girls, and, of course, food was the first thing one thinks of, but I, for one, do NOT need another doughnut and I think perhaps some of the technicians don’t, either, o I tried to think of something tied to my recent Texas trip.

The bags that were given each of us who came to the reunion were so colorful and nice that I asked my daughter-in-law for 4 of them. Then I had to think of what to put IN the bags.

After some soul-searching (tee shirts? Key ring?) I realized that I had an entire basement full of books…books that I wrote over the years since 2003 and on many different topics. In addition, since I have at least 2 series with 3 books in them (novels and short story collections), they could mix and match and share with one another, selecting the ones they felt they would enjoy most. If none of them suits their fancy, they can donate them to a local library, but these are books that I painstakingly wrote, myself, so there is a personal element in giving them something I “made.”

I read (on WebMD) about other gifts from other patients, but almost all were food. I do admit that food is tempting, but that will be my next big hurdle: shaping up and not eating bad foods, so I went with books. I do wish I had been “dressed” in my street clothes when asked to “ring the bell” but I had just climbed down from a radiation table and, as you can see, had on a beautiful hospital gown of nondescript style.

I had a meeting with my radiologist, Dr. Stouffel, who felt I had done well. I will see him again on Aug. 11^th.

It sounds like, from this point on, I merely take the Anastrozole pills I have been on since February and then I have a follow-up mammogram no less than 6 months after the end of radiation. That will be January and I will be in Texas. When I asked whether I should find a mammogram place there or wait until I returned to this area, the doctor said I needed to do it here so that the previous monograms taken could be compared. That will be more like 10 months before the next mammogram will take place.

I asked if this was in any way risky and he said it would not be.

So, from now on, while awaiting my August colonoscopy, my dental exam, and my vision screening, I am done (I hope).

I hope for a return to normalcy and an end to the 70 doctor visits I’ve experienced in 8 months’ time

Day #17 of Cancer Treatment Did Not Go Well—(Or At All)

By Connie Wilson

On June 4, 2022

In Health/Medicine, Of Local (Quad Cities') Interest, Science and Medicine, Texas

At the risk of becoming a “woe is me” blog, I am sharing today’s latest cancer concern.

I made it through my 16th day of radiation with no bad side effects, but a slight amount of redness. Some nurse assistant (whom I had never seen, although she seemed to know my name) handed me a green printed handout that said I should add 1/4 cup of vinegar to 2 quarts of water and then soak a cloth in this and put it on my slightly red upper right quadrant. I am sorry that she handed me that really antiquated advice at that moment in time, because I was feeling fine until then and the redness was quite slight.

I thought when she told me this that it sounded like advice from the 1920’s. Why do I say that? My mother had a favorite story about her bad sunburn when she was 20 in 1927. She was supposed to be in a girlfriend’s wedding as a bridesmaid and they had to sew her into her dress. After that, she described exactly this therapy for her bad sunburn: vinegar in water. Surely there is something more up-to-date and modern in 2022, nearly 100 years later?

So, my husband and I (who had been actually out CELEBRATING how well I had been doing, dining at the TreeHouse in Davenport) secured a vat of vinegar roughly the size of my head (K & K Hardware) and carefully measured out this concoction and I spent most of the evening of 6/3 applying carefully wrung out cloths to my right breast.

This turned out to be a very bad idea.

In the night, I woke up in pain and realized that the skin under my right breast had totally sloughed off. This, despite having NO problems up to the point of the vinegar soaking. The difficulty is keeping the area under a 44D breast dry to heal, which I well know, so I was actually sleeping with a wash cloth tucked in strategically, but it didn’t help.

I now am very, very red and in a fair amount of distress and some pain, but I showed up for my radiation on time and, when I did, ran into Daniel, the male nurse, who asked how I was doing.

Me: “Not that great, Daniel. All of the skin under my right breast has left the building and it hurts like a son-of-a-bitch.” (At the time, I was waiting to be shepherded back to the radiation table, where I have spent the past 16 week days. This day would mark the halfway point of my 33 day ordeal. I was in “the pond,” pictured below.)

Daniel spirited me away to an examining room and secured a radiologist (not my normal one), who nixed radiation for the day and prescribed the ointment I had asked for much earlier in the festivities. (I wanted to have it on hand when/if things got bad). With a name like Silvathiazole, it immediately conjured up memories of the sulfathiazole ointment my parents always applied to injuries during all my growing up years.

Now I am applying this white salve (a prescription with sulfa in it) for 3 days (Friday/Saturday/Sunday), putting it on four times a day, [but not 3 hours before radiation]. I am scheduled to meet with my oncologist at 2 p.m. on Monday, and I have been told to show up a half hour early on Monday, to make sure that it is okay to radiate at all on Monday.

Known as “The Pond,” one waits for pick-up to the radiation room here.

The problem with all this is that I have a very narrow window of opportunity to get all this done before boarding a plane for Texas on June 30 to fly to Austin for the Family Fest. I was supposed to have been “done” on June 27. That has now become June 28th. Then, of course, we have to drive to Chicago, which will probably occur on the 28th or 29th—unless this doesn’t heal up. And we fly on the 30th.

Do I really expect this to heal up? It is impossible to keep this area dry. I learned this the hard way when all of my stitches from my low faneuil incision tore out after my second C-section in 1987. That was an emergency room visit with my then-19-year-old son doing the honors, as his father was busy being plant manager at a Deere plant.

So, whoever made the 1920-era suggestion of vinegar in water for ME, in particular: VERY BAD IDEA. I realize that the cumulative effect of the radiation is just now evidencing itself, but someone should have given some thought to the concept of trying to keep the midriff and under-the-breast area of someone with 44D breasts DRY during this sensitive period. Now, I’m paying the price and the jury is out on whether I will make it through 33 days of this or not by June 30th, when I leave.

Keep in mind that no less an authority than Iowa City, Iowa, told me that they would not have radiated me at all had I had surgery there. While I felt that some of that was ageism, some of that was sexism, and some of that was probably just the insurance company not wanting to pay for anything they could avoid, I am still in agreement that helping reduce the risk of recurrence was worth trying to go through radiation. Not sure if cutting off “the boost” part of the process (i.e., the last 5 days of the 33, when they aim the beams directly at the hole left by the incision, rather than simply radiating the entire upper right half of your body, as it seems we are now doing) will be enough. Not very happy that I was handed the green sheet with the 1920-era advice on it, which I blindly followed.

I remember asking how much of this 33 days would be necessary to do me any good after my May 6th Iowa City visit, on upping the odds of no recurrence and being told nothing very firm. It sounded, to me, as though the final 5 days might be omitted without that much loss of the % benefit, but what do I know?

This has really shot down our premature celebration of making it through the first half uneventfully. I can’t help but feel that the introduction of vinegar and water to treatment—which is about as old-fashioned as you can get—was a very bad idea. And I am crossing my fingers that this salve—which I asked for right out of the box for the time when this started to happen, which could have been predicted from the get-go given my uber-sensitive skin—works.

Day Number One of Radiation: 32 To Go

By Connie Wilson

On May 11, 2022

In Health/Medicine, Local, Of Local (Quad Cities') Interest, Science and Medicine

Today’s radiation was a non-event (which is a good thing)…so far.

However, as I was driving to the 12:45 appointment, at 12:28 p.m., the original radiologist who diagnosed me back on December 7^th phoned me. Kudos to Dr. Gotswami for taking time out of her busy day to answer the musical question: “Should I try to make it through all 33 days of radiation?”

I could not speak with her at 12:28. I told her I’d be back home following the radiation. Could she please phone me at her convenience later? And she did. Her views on the subject of radiation confirmed mine (rather than Iowa City’s). I just hope that I am in the 52% who benefit, not the 48% who don’t.

Today’s radiation song was another Golden Oldie. (I can hum it, but I can’t tell you its name.)

The thing that concerns me is how tired I feel (and have felt since December 1^st.) I can’t imagine that I could become even MORE fatigued through the process of radiation. I honestly feel as though I could lay down and go to sleep immediately. At my “wellness visit” of December 1^st, I felt this way. The blood drawn at that time did not show any surprising or unusual results, but 6 days later I was diagnosed with cancer, so….

I must remember to call up and schedule my regular every-three-years colonoscopy. (The fun just never stops!) I’m thinking August for that gem, maybe. With a father and an aunt who died of colon cancer, one can’t be too cautious. As I remember, my father’s first symptom of his cancer was extreme fatigue, which first emerged in March. He died in October.

Known as “The Pond,” one waits for pick-up to the radiation room here.

I am so impressed that Genesis’ Dr. Goswami was kind enough to phone me today and confirm for me the logic of my current actions. She did give Iowa City some cover (additional explanation).

So far, I am glad I followed through on my own instincts, but I realize (from reading) t

doesn’t happen at the outset.

I am still, overall, stunned by my late-in-the-game Iowa City second opinion. And grateful for the chance to thank Dr. Goswami (of Genesis) for the phrase that has been ringing in my mind since December 7, 2021: “You did everything right. You’re going to be fine.”

Don’t Hug Me: I’m Radioactive!

By Connie Wilson

On May 9, 2022

In Science and Medicine

Some of you may have noticed that my blog has been offline since about May 4th.

Why?

No idea. Something about “cloud flares.” Extremely distressing. I hope GoDaddy gives me a week’s worth of freebie credit, because this has been quite upsetting. Thank you, Allison, for running interference on this and finally getting it straightened out. Something to do with “upgrades” gone wrong.

I begin radiation tomorrow, and it will run for 33 days, if I make it. I made a quick trip to Iowa City and met with specialists at their new Beast Cancer Center (open only 2 weeks) on Friday. Dr. Vickas spoke with my husband and me and, when I asked about the risks and benefits of radiation, said, “Actually, if you had had us operate here in Iowa City , we would not have radiated you at all.”

Big silence from the both of us.

Me: “Why not??

Dr.: “We don’t radiate anyone over 70. It has negligible benefit in terms of longevity.” (Welcome to being thrown upon the trash pile of life, I guess).

Me: “What about helping ward off a recurrence?”

Dr.: “Oh, yes. There is about a 52% better chance of no recurrence if you are radiated.”

Me: “Then why wouldn’t I have radiation for THAT?”

Dr. Vikas: “Well, we know how to treat that. You’d just come back and have another lumpectomy and go through all the rest of it.”

I don’t want to say that MALE Indian doctors don’t pay much attention to how women fare in the world, but male Indian doctors don’t pay much attention to women and how they fare in the world. I could go on and relate a true story about how my husband received a Vitamin D long-lasting pill in release form from our mutual male (former) Indian doctor, while it was never even mentioned to me that my Vitamin D was low—in fact,far lower than his. How do I know this? I had the good sense to have my blood work sent to my regular OB/GYN, Dr. Mihm, who called me FROM VACATION to tell me to go to a drugstore, buy some Vitamin D. and start taking a lot of it because my levels were so low.

So, tomorrow, it begins. Wish me luck!