The Cancer Chronicles, Part 4

To Radiate, Or Not To Radiate

What’s happening to my body today?

For one who has always been able to trade on a full head of hair, I was shocked.

It began to fall out about two weeks after my first chemo infusion, so I decided to get it over with by getting a buzz cut.

The woman cutting my hair informed me that her particular salon gives a complimentary buzz cut to chemotherapy patients. Gotta love a bargain!

Some have said it looks “really good on you,” or “the shape of your head is perfect.” I’m glad they like it! Me? Not so much.

The first person to see it was my Mom, and of course, what’s a mom supposed to say? She said, “the shape of your head is perfect”! “Okay,” I thought, “I’ll run with it.”

Still, I thought it was the worst thing in the world until she reminded me that the worst thing had already happened, and that was the death of my son. This doesn’t come close. Perspective.

I rarely wore caps because I’d never needed them, but I have begun the big cover-up. I don’t think I’ve ever worn a beanie in my life, but as the temperature has taken a nosedive, I just bought a nice, warm one. And I am now officially a New Mexico Lobos fan!

To an extent, I’ve manscaped for many years. It kind of keeps things organized, you know. Both on my chest and down “there.” I’ll have to figure out what to do with all that.

What is that on my body?

I’m learning that there are always surprises when you have an illness like this.

What sparked my first trip to the ER had nothing to do with cancer. Instead, it was an extreme case of cellulitis in both lower extremities. And man, was it painful.

Never had that before.

At about the time of my first chemo infusion, I discovered a case of ringworm near my left armpit. It was perfectly round and spiral. But it itched and was weird. Like some alien had taken up residence in my body.

Never had that before.

The other night I woke up to the sensation of tingling and pins and needles poking me in my feet. So the following day, I checked out the area of inflammation. There were what appeared to be about a half-dozen dots of blood the size of a nailhead on the side of my left foot. But they weren’t bleeding externally — it appeared the blood was coming from within. Neuropathy?

Never — well, you get it.

I happened to have a gel that I had previously used for some other skin-borne irritation, so I used it, and it worked. Then, a couple of nights later, the same thing happened on my right foot, so I used it again. But at that point, I thought I better take a look and see if what I was doing was safe.

So I went to the Mayo Clinic’s website to learn about what I was using and whether it had an adverse reaction to other meds. It turned out there were literally hundreds of medications that you should not use with the product, a couple of which I’m pretty sure I’m taking. Fuck. Another question for my oncologist.

Research!

Some of the things I write about require a lot of research, which I really enjoy.

But I get tired of researching my illness. It takes an inordinate amount of time to, in a sense, become your own best advocate in this process. The amount of information available on cancer is, like most things, overwhelming.

I’d much rather spend my time writing and not writing about this!

After my second infusion last week, I received my upcoming schedule of “events.” I didn’t read it until I got home. I couldn’t understand most of the acronyms, but one I saw that seemed pretty clear was “RAD,” which, of course, meant radiation.

The doctor never mentioned that I would be receiving this type of treatment, which leaves me wondering why it’s being introduced now. Do they know something I don’t?

The first appointment is a consultation, the second is “marking the spots,” and the third is the actual treatment.

A friend of mine declined radiation treatment her cancer treatment, saying it was too invasive for her comfort.

I shudder to think what that does to one’s body in addition to the infusions.

Today’s thoughts

I’ll wait for the consultation before I make any decisions.

But from time to time, I can’t help but think: is this a death sentence?

So far, my doctor has seemed pretty confident about a positive outcome, but here’s a question I’ve never asked:

“Just how serious is this?”

How do you plan for anything when you don’t know the outcome? I’m not made of money, and thank god for Medicaid, but the state has only been generous with extending it every quarter because of Covid. Living on social security, a small pension, (and Medium!), I make too much money!

Too much money! Can you see the inequity in it all?

What if it comes to a screeching halt on March 31? I may have another battle to fight.

No one has intimated that I’m going to die. But shit happens. What if this goes bad? Should I max out my credit cards and do everything I’ve always wanted to do?

My consultation is tomorrow, so now I will continue on my list of questions. But it’s the last thing I feel like doing.

I’m a geek in a lot of ways. So here are a couple of articles you might enjoy reading!

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