Radiation Underway

I've gotten started with radiation treatments - four of ten planned treatments are finished. Because they are whole brain treatments, a moulded plastic mesh mask was made on my first visit. The radiation therapists slip the mask on over my head each time and use it to line up the beam.

My sister, Joyce, was here for a visit on one of the first WestJet flights into Saint John from Toronto (for now they operate only seasonally). It was also the first time we had great weather when she visited (snow storms and fog have been features of previous visits). It was nice to show her around while everything is so green and we enjoyed lobster and scallops, too. Comet loved the extra attention and the long walks.

Wendy

More lemons, more lemonade

Those side effects I talked about in my previous entry morphed rather suddenly into dizziness and headaches this past week or ten days. A rather dramatic crumple to the floor at work on Thursday, accompanied by losing consciousness briefly, led to a meeting with some paramedics from the ambulance service after concerned staff had phoned 911. When I explained my condition and that I had a scheduled CAT scan, they let me get to the car by wheelchair (they wanted to put me on the gurney). My thanks to the museum staff for their ‘heads up’ actions after my collapse.

Back home, I contacted the Chemo room. They seemed concerned that my CAT scan wasn’t scheduled until Monday and after a flurry of phone calls we got an appointment for Friday morning. Since it was evident that I needed a wheelchair to get around, we corralled our friend Jack to drive us to the Fortress of Healing. For all that we were wedged into the appointment queue for a CAT scan, we were home shortly after lunch. CAT scans only take ten minutes.

Later Friday afternoon Dr. B called with news that the scan showed some spots on the back part of the brain which affects balance. Our hopes that this was just another side effect or an inner ear infection were put aside. She pointed out that this was “another level of seriousness”. They start radiation therapy next week and I’m making arrangements to work from home for now. I’m taking a medication for the dizziness.

Fortunately, most of the house, except for Harvey’s office, is on one floor. We’ve rented a wheelchair that I’m slowly learning to maneuver around the house. I can get from the bedroom to the living room and dining room and my office quite handily. Harvey bought some cordless phones today so I’ll be able to contact him when he’s busy in his office (where the computer is located) or I can wander around with a phone in my hand.

Wendy

Celebrating International Year of Biodiversity

As my unplanned celebration of the above, I’m adjusting to doing many, many things consciously rather than unconsciously due to my numb/tingly fingers and toes, a side effect of this chemo drug. I’m making like a coyote, a species I greatly admire because it is highly adaptable and a trickster figure, and learning to adapt. This could be extremely frustrating but instead, I am trying to view it as an interesting learning opportunity. This works at least some of the time. (“Holy cow! That’s interesting.” is becoming a new mantra.)

Changes include:

• Numb toes, resulting in poor balance. This is a scary one, because if I fell I could damage vertebrae in my neck which are weak because of bone reduction due to radiation treatments. Because of the balance issue I have to really focus on walking when I’m walking; not being distracted by the shop window displays or the lady in the pretty red jacket, not thinking I can pull something out of my bag or have my hands in my pockets. (Harvey frequently reminds me to walk with my hands and my arms swinging.) I’m also thinking of using a walking stick for support. This will be another new skill I’ll need to develop. Of course, I have the walking sticks my father Herb made out of attractive pieces of wood, as well as an antique hackberry stick my friend John salvaged.
• Numb/tingly fingers effect everything I do with my hands, which is a lot. (Think about this for even a short period of time during your day and I suspect you will also be amazed). Keyboarding (we used to call it typing.) of course, and I’m learning the skill of two rather than ten fingered typing. Voice recognition software would be an option if this was permanent, but it should (knock on wood) go away when I’m no longer receiving this chemo drug. I’ve discovered that sometimes emails are better answered by telephone and you have conversations with people too, which is wonderful. Doing things at work in chunks – we know that switching tasks frequently is not a good thing. It also works better for my fingers if I spend time doing emails, then make some phone calls, then working on the keyboard to draft documents.
• Finding the balance between allowing people to help and remaining independent, often without knowing until experience teaches me where this line lies. People don’t mind helping, whether it’s taking a staple out of some papers I need to photocopy or a clerk waiting patiently for me to extract change from my wallet. A little humour and saying ‘thank you’ are also important.
• I learned to wet my fingers to separate the pages of the newspaper. I’ve mostly given up carrying breakable things or I use two hands. Harvey even carries my morning coffee into my office for me. The original owner of this house had many handgrips put into the tub and shower and I’m using them.
  
  I can already see that some of the adaptations work better than my old habits, and thus can be adopted permanently.
  
  In the spirit of the coyote.
  
  Wendy