Radiotherapy Blues
I have come to the end of 33 blasts of radiation over almost 7 weeks. They call it precision bombing. Targeted attack, like from a drone programmed to destroy the enemy.
After getting through with what appeared to be flying colours. After minimal side effects. After no real apparent deterioration of my taste and swallowing, no pain, minimal fatigue. After thinking I got away with a “get out of jail card”.
After all this good fortune, the pendulum finally swung in the opposite direction about a week ago. My mindset changed.
The side effects built slowly and not too obviously. Food stopped tasting as good, not that I was eating any really gourmet meals. Georgie noticed that I had lost a small section of the hair on the left side of my neck, my skin in the area that the radiation was directed at started feeling a bit more tender and looked like I had fallen asleep outside on a sunny day. I started experiencing insignificant amounts of “brain fog”, very slightly slurring my speech topped with a sprinkling of general forgetfulness. I became a little less willing to socialize and even lost some of my desire to communicate although this didn’t stop me.
You know, it’s not really all that bad but for some reason I feel a bit disappointed with myself.
I should be rejoicing and patting myself on the back for getting through this radiotherapy relatively unscathed. The nurses told me that my response was amazing, accolades, they couldn’t believe that I was standing up so well to the constant onslaught of radioactive rays.
But I’m not rejoicing.
I feel a bit like I have run a marathon and having done so have even suppressed the pain and fatigue just so I could get to the finishing line.
And having reached it the competitive suppression has come off and I am at last noticing the small twitches, defects and effects.
It’s time to pick myself up by my own bootstraps and acknowledge that I did a bloody good job, that all the hard work has paid off.
From the viewpoint of the “glass half empty” attitude I can see the outpoints and the more I look at them the more obvious they become but I know I should be looking at it from the “glass half full” viewpoint and be looking at the positives.
Chances are pretty damn good that the malignant cancer cells in my lymph node have been blasted and sent to their grave. My radiologist felt my throat a couple of weeks ago and couldn’t even find any lump or thickening in my throat. Plus after all of the Hyperbaric Oxygen Therapy and the IVs, the Keto Diet with good blood sugar and ketone readings every day, saunas and all of the other numerous things that I have been doing I have an optimism that the circulating cancer cell percentage in my blood stream will have also diminished.
I can still partake in a good blast of exercise every second day, I’m still overall feeling more sprightly and healthy rather than tired and sick, I still have a good appetite, I can still get excited pretty easily, I still visualise the future and all the great things that I can potentially achieve. I still love life.
The tests will come over the coming weeks and months. I’m not going to sit around worrying about the results. What I do plan on doing is tweeking the maintenance, repair and building of my body. Nourishment, exercise, building up some muscle where I need it, long walks, strenuous workouts, new recipes, new therapies, lowered stress, supplements and so on and so forth.
Over the next few days I will re-adapt to my new lifestyle. Fill in the minutes and hours that I would have spent driving, having radiation, oxygen, IVs etc. I’ll still be planning to get out of bed early but maybe at 7.30 a.m instead of 6.30 a.m and aim for 8 hours good sleep.
All in all, I will strive toward making the most of my life and enjoying it as much as I possibly can.
The funny thing is that it’s a bit like my friend Joey said the other morning over coffee “When I don’t look in the mirror, I still feel 5 years old, full of passion, ideas and a lust for life”.
