But I did it. I fucking did it.
My skin is peeling so badly that it looks like I’m bleeding. The skin underneath the thick brown elephant-esk epidermis that has emerged via treatment is cracked revealing a red raw pathway. Like a volcano splitting the land exposing the volatile lava flowing below. Certain spots itch, others ache. Best be sure you know the difference because if you inadvertently scratch a sore spot OUCHIE MAMA CALL ME A CAB IT’S TIME TO GO HOMEEEEEEE. So to speak.
My skin oozes and leaks where you least expect it and is constantly hot to the touch. They said to expect “the area to worsen before it gets better” however if it gets much worse I’ll be able to select a different ethnicity on my census survey and possibly get a full boat scholarship to Xavier’s School for the Gifted. X-men unite.
Because the radiation took place in close proximity to my throat it caused my esophagus to swell. Each swallow feels as if I’m choking. “But don’t worry,” my radiologist reassured, “you won’t actually choke to death it will just feel like you are every time you swallow. Yup even when you swallow saliva.” Sharp, painful, gripping asphyxiation for a solid 3 seconds. With. Every. Swallow. For. 30. Days.
When receiving treatment I’m required to lay flat on a stretcher inside a large tunnel with my arms overhead secured in plastic holders and my hands gripping metal rods. I’m naked from the waist up. The radiologist technicians are kind and professional. They flit around like butterflies, yelling out confirmation numbers to each other ensuring that my body is in the correct position. My chin is held in place with a strap so my head stays completely still during treatment. The enormous tunnel creaks and moves up and down ever so slightly. Just enough to feel like I’m preparing for take off or enjoy an amusement park ride without the amusement.
Green, yellow and red lasers crisscross my body attempting to ensure the exact point of contact. “We got it” the tech says, “Green light, we’ll be back.” For the first few treatments I didn’t know what that meant. “Green light we got it?” Are they drag racing? “We’ll be back?” How long will you be gone for? Should I stay here? I never know what to say in return. I can’t see them or move my body to wave goodbye. “Uh ok good.” Is all I can muster. “Uh ok good.”
The technicians leave the room as the large microscope type device slowly inches towards my face. With my hands secured above my head and my chin fashioned tightly in place I have no choice but to watch out of my peripheral vision as the machine creeps downward. I feel vulnerable and powerless.
Vulnerable and powerless. At the whim of this enormous radioactive machine promising to provide me a few more years of living.
The radiation lasts about 2-3 minutes. After the set up process and radiating I’m tits up and exposed for about 20 minutes.
During the last week of crisping me bewbs the radiologist enthusiastically proclaimed, “You’re in your boost!” A secret that I’ve succumbed to during my medical adventure is I usually don’t know what they’re talking about so I repeat what they say in the hopes that it will jar something loose in the comprehension department.
“I’m in my boost” I skeptically say out loud. I’m still not entirely sure why they call the last week of radiation “boost week” except knowing that my radiating days were numbered sure as fuck gave me a boost.
It’s spring time in Boston. A time of revival, rebirth, regrowth and resurgence after a long, cold winter. The trees are awakening. The birds are singing. I’ve always felt that we are all connected. The sun, the sky, the trees, the sand, dogs, humans. We are one and the same.
My skin is shedding, revealing a renewed layer underneath. Like spring I feel a resurgence, a rebirth if you have it. The end of radiation truly feels like a milestone. A win that I needed. I have one surgery and 12 chemo treatments to go. “To everything, there is a season, and a time to every purpose.” As always, but especially now I thank dog for another turn in this game. Check and mate.
No comments:
Post a Comment