Last Day of Radiation

I can't believe I let June 15th come and go without mentioning it here.

Monday the 15th, was the last day for radiation or TomoTherapy as it is properly called.
Rich's daughter Stephanie came with Dennis and Ariel so we could all be together for the 'event'.

We kept things pretty low key while in the waiting room.  I've watched and waited for nearly seven weeks for this day to come and I notice that other patients were very quiet about their last radiation treatments and we followed suit.

We ran into the 'woman' we met last week as Rich came out of the treatment room.  We hugged and I heard her first name called by the nurse.  She was in day 14, she had just finished her 3rd chemo.

She told me that she still had my email address and 'almost' wrote to me.  I shrugged and said, "It is there if you need it."

Nurse Jackie took our entourage down the hall to Dr. Witek's exam room.  Dr. Witek came in and looked around.  Oncologists often see the family with the patient and they say the better support a patient had, the better the outcome.

Rich introduced everyone and then Dr. Witek examined Rich telling him congratulations on filling up the paper...meaning, making all of the radiation treatments.
He then turned to the kids and said "This is going to be fun, watch me try and look into your Grandpa's mouth!  He can't stick out his tongue and say AHHH at the same time! It is pretty funny!"

Rich wrapped a piece of gauze around his tongue and pulled it out.  Dr. Witek looked surprised and took a look into his mouth at the tonsil that had the tumor.

He stood back and laughed.  "Rich, you are a man of your word!  It looks good! Nothing there I can see.  The lymph node has shrunk.  If I had to flip a coin I'd say we did it."
He paused.
"Of course cancer is an interesting thing.  There is always the chance that we didn't get one or two stray cells okay?  But I'm thinking we got it. We'll do a PET scan in 3 months because otherwise your radiation will 'heat' up the PET scan and give false readings.  Questions?"

"Should you take my tonsil out doc?" Rich asked.
"Good question and no we won't unless that happens to be a last resort if the cancer came back.  Too much possibility of bleeding and risk. Oh and I think your PEG tube can go in a few weeks too."

"Yes!" Rich exclaimed, "I can get rid of Miss Peggy!"

We finally left, our whole group was feeling elated.  Rich could still eat almost normally but the pain was there.  He still aspirated often while drinking water and the coughing fit he had afterwards was quite awful.

If someone had told me a few weeks ago that I'd be walking out of the UW Carbone Cancer center with Rich feeling pretty good and able to walk, talk, eat, and drink...I'd have told them they were absolutely nuts.

We went out to celebrate with the kids at Perkins and on the way home I took a detour and went to Old Hyde Mill to take some photos.

We got home after 5pm and took naps.  I was emotionally exhausted yet happy. No more daily radiation appointments.

Let the follow up appointments begin.

Reach out...

The waiting room at the Carbone Cancer Center is an interesting place.  Our waiting area is familiar to me of course after weeks of visiting it each day.

We see familiar faces after a while.  Some patients are old and then there is the real shock of seeing a young person a child...

Some people visit with each other, some stay isolated and don't make eye contact.
Some discuss their cancer and others will talk about anything but their treatment or cancer.

Yesterday as I was waiting for Rich, a woman came into the area.  She'd had surgery done to her mouth and throat.  She sat down not far from me and picked up a magazine.

Rich was called and I returned to working on the 'waiting room puzzle'.
The woman stood up and paced, then began to walk around and straighten up magazines in the whole area.

She came near me and quietly said, "I'm sure they are going to think me nuts for aligning all of these magazines..."

I saw her eyes and I saw what I thought was fear and loneliness.  I put my hands in my lap and gave her my full attention.

"Nope, no one is going to think you are nuts, if you are like me the only way to deal with all of this stress is to stay busy," I replied.

She nodded and dropped into a seat next to me.  "Yes! Yes, you are so right!"

Her hands fluttered and then she looked toward the treatment room where Rich had gone.
"I'm sorry but what kind of cancer does your husband have?"  Her question didn't surprise me, we often discussed cancers with anyone that asked.

"Throat Cancer," I replied.
She nodded, dabbing the corner of her mouth with a tissue.  The surgeons would have some reconstruction to do at some point...I thought.

"Me too," she said.  "They got most of it by surgery, but this is my second week of both radiation ... and chemo."

"You are just starting," I said.  "My husband has 6 more radiations to go."

"Did he have chemo also?" she asked.
"Yes, he did," I replied.  I decided not to share my husband's medical horror stories with her, absolutely she...did not need to hear that!
"We are done with chemo and heading towards the end of treatment."

She sighed, "I'm just so tired and the nausea, and the chemo...ugh...and I lost 10 lbs in the first week alone!"

I reached over and took her hand in mine and looked her in the eyes.  The eyes were so scared, so frightened...

"I'm not going to lie to you, this is a tough treatment.  My husband lost 10 lbs his first week also and we had to deal with some nausea.  Every person's treatment is different, but we've managed to come up with some very good 'power shakes' for him and recipes that are so simple and so packed with goodies..."

Her hands clenched mine as if I'd become a life line.

"Have you gotten the recipes from Jackie?" I asked.
She nodded.
"There is some great stuff in there, start eating and making some easy carbo packed foods now and freeze small packets for the days you are too tired to cook."

I nodded towards the treatment rooms, "I've sort of come up with some easy stuff for eating and he is still eating by mouth.  It isn't easy but we are making adjustments."

"Does he have a feeding tube?" she asked.
"Yes, and so far he just flushes it and then adds water and pedialyte because the chemo messes with everything..."
Rich walked out of the treatment room and I could hear his boots on the floor.

"Oh." She replied when Rich came around the corner.  

My husband, even with a cane can be a rather striking figure. He normally wears extremely bright colored western shirts.  His silver and black hair is bright and touches his shoulders.  Most of the hair loss is under the neck so most people wouldn't notice it.

She stood up and Rich told me that we had to go see Dr. Witek.  I told him to go ahead, I'd be right there.

I turned to the lady.  "I hope we see each other again, perhaps you'd like to talk, or maybe I can give you some resources that have helped me..."

Next thing I know I was holding this woman who had wrapped her arms around me tightly and held on even tighter.  
I wrapped my arms around her and held on.  I rubbed her back and whispered comforting words like a mother does to her child.

She stepped away and the nurse called her name for treatment.
Then she turned and grabbed me for another hug.

I held her tight until she let go.  She dabbed her eyes and then turned towards the treatment room.

Rich looked at me.
"She's just starting treatment for throat cancer," I told him, "I think she needed a friend.  She seems so frightened and alone."

I put my hand in his and we walked towards the next waiting room.

Dr. Witek was happy with how Rich was coming along and full of smiles.

However I kept thinking of the woman with the lonely eyes that were so full of fear.  
I hoped we would cross paths next week, and perhaps I could help in some way.

Rich and I talked a lot on the way home, but in those moments of silence my mind kept returning to that woman in the waiting room.

Rich and I have gone through such tough times together since the March 13th diagnosis.  
No one can even imagine what it is like unless they walk a mile in the patient's shoes.
As the care giver, I can only offer support and give care.

Who was that woman's support?
I keep thinking of her.

I hope to see her again.