Hey Angels,
I've been answering individual queries since I got back from my first treatment, and plumb forgot that I wasn't including everyone as promised. Sorry about that.
The procedure itself was so void of sensation, that I actually thought they hadn't finished "prepping" me for it, when the radiologist came into the room and said, "Well, we're done." No noises, sensations (other than some lights from the equipment above my closed eyes), and no after-effects that I can put a finger on. I just had a vegan burrito, with a diet-coke and now have hiccups, though, which is so rare I can't even recall when I last them. Maybe years. So, unless there's some connection, I'd say I'm good as gold. I can live with a case of hiccups.
So, I have two more sessions scheduled for Monday and Thursday at 8:30 am CST. (I'm on Chicago Time, by the way) After that, starts the chemo. I imagine there'll be more to report after that gets rolling. I'm told that personal 'reaction' is so varied that they can't predict who will go through what, in terms of their body's reaction. I'm naturally hoping for only the most endurable reaction and effectiveness, but that's out of my hands, which I accept without reservation. I'm sure I've been clear about that, I think.
My sense of humor remains unaffected, if not actually enhanced, but at the moment I think that'll be all I'm going to do before I take a nap. My sleep patterns continue to be interrupted by the pains I've mentioned recently. For instance, just laying on my back on the radiation machine's table was very uncomfortable. The mass lays on my lung, with the aid of Gravity, and requires medicine to make it possible for me to lie still. My oxygen is actually optimal (98%, almost every time) but my perception due to this lung mass is far less than that. Thank God for Tylenol, Albuterol, Robitussin, Dexamethasone, and Xanax. What a cocktail, eh? I've been given the absolute 'go-ahead' to use those ingredients as needed, too, which is nice. They keep me just under the anxiety and discomfort level I need to be beneath so I can hold still for the procedure. On the huge plus-side, the ultra-expensive equipment they have has a tracking device that instantly adjusts positioning of the beam in the event of any unexpected movement. That, in itself, was comforting although I was able to keep still for the 17 minutes or so of treatment today. They actually said that that would be the longest one. What a wondrous experience this is. I couldn't have dreamed it.
Thanks for being there for me, and as many are already finding out I answer each of every email or text within a pretty short time. Phone calls are still way too difficult to even think about, but hopefully, that will change after the lung mass starts to get dealt with as aggressively as I understand it's going to.
I did get a compliment on my "dating profile photos", with the bullseye tattoos and cute chemo port. I'll be seventy-three in less than three months, and it makes me feel pretty good to know I still got some marketability. My appetite has actually retuned in spades, too by the way, and I am now actually about a pound MORE than I lost during the struggle to find the right medicine for all this pain. I want to get buff so I can get back to jamming. I've been keeping up the music in my room, but it isn't the same as "the stage". Currently, I also have to 'whisper' the lyrics, as opposed to belt it out, which I enjoy.
Thanks for the fun and laughter; I chuckle internally, though, as you might imagine
Love y'all mucho.
Ken
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