My father’s radiation therapy in the mid-1970s was really
brutal. It scorched his entire torso, and it did no good anyway, as his cancer
was far too advanced.
My mother’s 1990s chemotherapy in the 1990s was much milder.
She was only nauseous a few times. Taxol made her hair fall out, which really
stunned her; I think it was the worst thing about the treatment for her. But
the chemo extended her life considerably, without much affecting her quality of
life.
And now it’s twenty years later, and I’m doing a tandem
combination of radiation and chemotherapy. The radiation is directed straight
at my left tonsil; after the first few treatments, I haven’t noticed many ill
effects, apart from a little neck soreness/stiffness. The first few chemo
treatments were similarly mild (apart from a little nausea and fatigue).
When I go in for radiation, I lie on the table and let the
nurses fasten on my Radiation Mask:
They also give me a plastic hoop to grip with both hands, so
I don’t flail my arms too much. The treatment is about ten minutes long; the
machine makes all kinds of space-age humming and beeping noises. Then the
attendant comes in and unbuckles me.
My mind wanders during the treatment. Early on, I found
myself thinking about the plastic hoop. It’s ridged, and slightly flexible –
When the attendant came in to unbuckle me, I handed her the
hoop and said: “This is a dog toy, isn’t it?”
She chuckled. “Yep. The medical version costs a
hundred and fifty dollars. I bought that one at Petco for seven ninety-five.”
File this one under “health care costs,” and “high-tech
medicine,” and probably under “human ingenuity.”
Pity the poor dog going without his toy. But it’s in the
name of medicine, after all.
Woof woof!
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