Cancer Musings (PET Scan)

Today I had the appointment for the PET scan. This was my first PET scan (Positron Emission Tomography scan). This is a term for a test that I've heard thrown around my whole life when hearing others talk about cancer, but I never researched it or even asked anyone what it was. 

Here's the technical breakdown: It's a type of medical imaging that uses a radioactive tracer to visualize how organs and tissues are functioning. The process involves injecting a radioactive substance, waiting for it to be absorbed by the body and then using a scanner to create images. The tracer accumulates in areas where cells are most active such as cancerous tissues or areas with brain function. The tracer is a radioactive analog of glucose. Cancer cells often exhibit higher glucose metabolism than normal cells. This test is also used in testing for neurological disease (like Alzheimer's dementia) or cardiac issues. PET scans can reveal changes at the cellular and molecular level, sometimes even before the structural changes are visible on other imaging modalities like a CT scan or an MRI.

Here's the human breakdown: 

The things going through my head: 

• What? Wait. As a general practice, my entire life, I've avoided exposing myself intentionally to radioactive material, let alone injecting it into my body.  
• Glucose. Sugar. Got it. Looking for glucose in the body. Okay.

What I was told when I called to make the appointment: 

• The scan will take about 15 minutes. 
• There is some prep before the test and you will be sent the instructions in the mail. Follow the instructions very carefully. 

Instructions I received in the mail: 

• 24-hours before the exam, we recommend you eat a high-protein diet and avoid carbohydrates and sugars. Drink plenty of low-calorie fluids and/or water. 
• Examples of carbohydrates/sugars to avoid: potatoes, pasta, rice, bread, cereals, dessert, fruit, juice (hmm...this could be tricky).
• Examples of  high protein foods to eat: fish, seafood, chicken, turkey, pork, beef-all without breading; bacon, sausage, eggs, tofu (no, thank you), vinegar and oil dressing, butter/cooking oils, mayonnaise; non-starchy veggies: lettuce, spinach, tomatoes, broccoli, cauliflower, green beans, mushrooms. 
• Refrain from strenuous activity for 24 hours prior to your exam. 
• 4-hours prior to exam: Do no eat. Avoid liquid medications, gum, hard candy, and cough drops. Do not drink anything except water. Continue to drink water up to the time of your exam. 
• My reaction to these instructions: Hmm. That prep is a little intense and more than I thought it would be. 

The day of the exam: 

• I scheduled this appointment for 7:30 in the morning, thinking it would be quick (like a CT scan) and then I would head off to work. Greg always offers to go with me for the scans and I usually tell him, 'There's no need. It's just a scan. You'll just be waiting in the lobby". This time I took him up on his offer to go with me and wait because I wanted the emotional support. Then, we'd both head off to our separate workplaces after the appointment.
• We both arrived at the office, and I checked in for the appointment. Very shortly after checking in, the tech came to bring me back for the test. As he was leading me away, he casually said, "The whole process will take about an hour and a half because we have to wait for the tracer to get into your system, and then the scan takes about 20 minutes". This was a surprise. I looked at Greg with shock and apology on my face, and off I went. 
• I was taken to a lovely, quiet, private room with a comfy chair and given a warm blanket (the good things of life). An IV was placed in my arm, and the tracer was injected into my body. The tech then told me he would come back in about an hour and bring me back to the scanner. He also said I could use my phone to read or listen to something but they ask that I not do any "heavy texting" or "game playing" on my phone. That movement (which oddly enough could be viewed as strenuous activity) will cause glucose to activate in that area and could give a false impression on the results of the exam. So, I sat and listened to an audiobook I've been working on (The Next Conversation by Jefferson Fisher--very good book. Highly recommend). I refrained from multitasking. It was quite relaxing. 
• After an hour, the tech came back to get me and led me to the scanner. The scan involves lying on a table, completely still, with your arms above your head while a machine, much like a CT scanner, scans your body. That process took about 15 minutes. Quick and painless for the most part, perhaps just a little uncomfortable. Before you knew it, I was on my feet again, being led to the waiting room, hugging Greg goodbye, and heading off to work for the day. 
• And there you have it. The underworld of the PET scan process through a patient's experience. And now, we wait for the results and I will follow up with the oncologist next week. 

Cancer Musings (Oncology Appt/Follow Up CT)

 Last week, I had the follow CT scan of my chest performed. Today I saw the oncologist to review the results. 

First, let me explain to you how I handle test results. I typically do not look at test results before my follow-up appointments with the oncologist (even though they are automatically sent to me electronically usually within hours to a day of having the test performed). I don't need my own interpretation of the information in my head before I hear the medical explanation (and the plan for addressing it) from someone with clinical experience and expertise. My imagination is not my friend in these particular scenarios. I've been pretty disciplined in this approach all the way through this journey, and I'm comfortable with it. However, I have noticed with the past few appointments that the medical professionals assume I have already looked at the results and they walk in talking about plans before I actually know what the test showed. 

This time around, I decided to look at the results of the CT scan, with Greg, the morning of the appointment. We read it together. And I cried. The scan showed new spots on my lungs and consolidation of the spots that had already been there, and the word "infectious" appeared a few times throughout the report. It felt pretty grim to us. It sounded like cancer, but the radiologist's recommendation was to follow up with another scan in three months. We felt discouraged, disappointmented, and a bit frightened. So, we prayed together. We thanked God that nothing is a surprise to Him and He is in control. 

When we saw the oncologist, as I suspected, she came into the room expecting us to be upset and assuming we had already looked at the results. She showed us the images and explained that some of the spots looked "suspicious" to her eye but she wasn't sure either. The recommendation was to do another scan in three months, but she was leaning toward ordering a PET scan. The spots were too small to biopsy at this point. She wanted to run it by a pulmonologist friend of hers and get his expert opinion on how he would interpret it. 

She called me after the appointment. She ordered a PET scan to be done and wants me to follow up with her after the results are in. 

So, the waiting game continues, and we are trusting God. 

Cancer Musings (Cycle 8/Oncology Appt)

Last week I finished cycle 8 of Drug X. Sixteen months of chemo treatment complete. Yay!

Today I had a follow-up appointment with the oncologist to review the CT scan of the chest and abdomen that I had performed last week. The CT scan was ordered (as it was explained to me) to "wrap this thing up with a pretty little bow". Hmm. No bow yet. 

The CT scan showed "pulmonary nodules", some small spots on my lungs, which were "indeterminate". It's possible the spots were already there, but there's nothing to compare it to, so the oncologist wants me to have another CT scan in three months and return to see her. 

Cancer is a bit of a rollercoaster ride and full of surprises. I was disappointmented by the news because I still have the port in and I have been eager to have it removed. Alas, that will not happen yet. Maybe three months from now. 

God continues to take such good care of us through this whole journey, and I am very grateful for that. He can be trusted. I'm feeling a little stronger every day and my energy is returning. 

And my sweet husband has been faithfully by my side through it all. 

 

Cancer Musings (the first haircut)

Tonight I got my hair cut for the first time in 14 months. It's a strange and fascinating thing to watch your hair grow back from scratch. It's very different from getting a haircut you didn't like and then waiting for it to grow back out. When it's growing out from nothing, it takes whatever shape it wants to and you can't do much about tt. It took seven months to get it to its current length. The back of my hair was growing faster than the front, and I could tell if I didn't do something soon, I would be heading toward mullett-ville. 

The hairstylist who cut my hair was very kind and understood my story when I told her about it. However, she did ask me a question that mystified me, and my confusion showed on my face. She said, "Do you want to keep the layers in there?" It was a very strange question to me since I had done nothing to cause any layers in it up to this point. I said, "I guess I'm not prepared to answer that question." She giggled at that response and told me my hair did have layers in it now, which makes sense considering the possible mullet action happening. I left the final decision in her capable hands and came away with a haircut with which I was pleased.

Before 

After

Cancer Musings (Oncology Appt-Cycle 7)

I have now completed cycle 7 of drug X and today I met with the oncologist to get labs done and talk about the next steps. Tomorrow I will start cycle 8 of drug X, which will be the last cycle in this course and the last in my chemo treatments. I am scheduled for CT scans of the chest, stomach, and pelvis on February 28. I will then meet again with the oncologist in early March to review the results and see if any further action needs to be taken. In theory, this was my last oncology visit for treatment courses in this journey. 

As I was standing in line to get checked in to my appointment this morning, I struck up a conversation with the lady behind me. She looked to be in her 30's . I could see that she came with her parents. They were all carrying bags and looking a little unsure. I asked her if she was getting treatment done that day. She said, "Yes. It's my first treatment." She asked me a few questions about my own diagnosis and if I had lost my hair. When I asked her about her diagnosis, she said it was breast cancer and admitted that she barely remembered what it was called and didn't understand much about it. She said, "It's a subject I never wanted to have to know about. I just want it out of my body". I can relate to that. The cancer journey and treatment process is all so overwhelming in the beginning. Information is coming at you fast and furiously, and most of it seems like a foreign language.

After we both checked in and sat in the waiting area, I searched my purse for a blank piece of paper (seriously searched for about 5 minutes--how can there be so many things in that small purse and nothing to write on?) I finally found a small card and wrote down my name and number and told her to call me if she ever just needed an ear as she navigates through this journey. I think it meant as much (if not more) to her mother as it did to her. I'm grateful to God for every one of these unexpected encounters with other lovely human beings along this journey. And I remember how helpful it was to me when someone reached out to me in an unexpected way during an appointment. 

Greg wasn't able to join me at this visit, so I flew solo for my last appointment for drug X. I've been so grateful for his support and companionship all along the way. 

Cancer Musings (Oncology Appt-Cycle 6)

Today marked the end of cycle 6 on drug X, which brought another follow-up oncology appointment. It's good news that I've been able to tolerate the drug for 6 cycles and will likely make it through the last two cycles. My feet and hands (and appetite and taste buds) will be happy to make it to the end of this drug journey, as they have all been beaten up on this process. God is faithful and good, and He is sustaining me through this journey. 

I was solo at this appointment, as we've entered the busy season for Greg's job right now.  Check out the long, curly locks below (well, we're getting there anyway). 

Cancer Musings (Oncology Appt-Cycle 5)

Well, nothing says Merry Christmas like an oncology appointment. The end of cycle 5 on drug X just happened to fall on today (Christmas Eve), and they were open, so we scheduled the appointment for today. It actually worked out well because both Greg and I had the day off of work. 

I'll be starting cycle 6 the day after Christmas. Lowering the dose last time around slowed down the side effects to my feet and allowed me to tolerate it for another round. The goal is to get me through 8 cycles of the drug, so we're getting closer to the finish line. Yay!

Merry Christmas, everyone!

Cancer Musings (Oncology Appt-Cycle 4)

Today I spent time at my part-time job of attending medical appointments. I don't recommend it as a career  choice.  The money and hours are lousy. It takes more than it gives.

Today was a lab appointment, a 6-month surgical follow-up appointment (who knew?), and an oncology appointment. I was there for about 3 hours. 

I'm about to start cycle 5 of drug X, and the side effects for my feet are becoming a bit much. The oncologist decided to lower the dose. I was relieved. The hope is to get through 8 cycles of this drug (6 cycles at the least). If I had to continue on the current dose, I have doubts I would make it to 6 cycles. My feet are very red and becoming sore. We'll see how it goes on the lower dose. 

Greg wasn't able to attend this appointment, so I went solo. Every appointment, I have a little more hair to show off in the picture. Very exciting!

Cancer Musings (Don't Overthink It)

Every couple of weeks, a new prescription of drug X appears in the mail. It is a chemotherapy drug It is packaged in a plastic bag that contains the words CAUTION: HAZARDOUS DRUG. It is accompanied by several sheets of papers containing cautionary words warning me not to let anyone else touch this drug, and if I touch it I should wash my hands before touching anything else. When I read those words, it does not escape me that I will be putting a large dosage of this drug into my mouth and swallowing it, twice a day. 

If I think about this for too long, I won't put this drug into my mouth. So, I don't think about it. I pray. I trust God. And I move forward with the prescribed plan. I ignore the well-meaning comments from friends and family telling me that they would not take chemo and only choose a course of natural remedies if they were diagnosed with cancer. I ignore it because I know now that you don't know exactly what you will do until you hear the words: "I'm sorry. You have cancer." Even then, you're often stuck between a hard decision you don't like and another hard decision you don't like. 

So ... I pray. I trust God. I move forward with the prescribed plan. And I remember that "In the infinite wisdom of the Lord of all the earth, each event falls with exact precision into its proper place in the unfolding of God's divine plan. Nothing, however small, however strange, occurs without His ordering or without its particular worthiness of its place in the working out of His purpose; and the end of all will be the manifestation of His glory, and accumulation of His praise. 

 

Cancer Musings (Oncology Appt-Cycle 3)

I just finished cycle 3 of drug X. Today I had my oncology appointment where my labs were checked and the plan was made to continue on with the next 21-day cycle (#4). The goal is to complete 8 cycles, but I can stop at 6 if I'm unable to tolerate it. So far, I'm tolerating it. It's rough on my hands and feet. It's painful and requires a lot of application of ointments and creams, which is time consuming. I've learned that consuming massive amounts of time is the most predominant side effect of the cancer journey. It's also the side effect that no one talks about.

Another strange side effect that goes with the hand and foot syndrome symptoms of this drug is that I no longer have fingerprints. Strange but true and said to be a temporary side effect. The fingerprints should return after the treatment course is over. Thankfully, my most recent phone uses face recognition or passcode technology and not a fingerprint reader. Otherwise, I'd be in trouble. 

All in all, the cancer battle is moving along toward the halfway mark in this final treatment. And God has proven Himself to be faithful and true all the way through.

Greg has come to most of my oncology appointments and we've kept up the habit of taking our picture together each time. Here's today's picture, the first without a hat in many months: 

Cancer Musings (the hair journey)

My hair is finally growing back and at a comfortable length to wear in public. I dubbed today "wear your real hair to work day. I have ditched the wig, and I'm going with the pixie style from here on out (until it grows longer anyway). 

Here's my cancer hair experience in pictures. 

This is what my hair looked like in November of last year, when I was first diagnosed with breast cancer. 

I got my hair cut to a shoulder-length style in early December with the impending hair loss in mind. 

I started chemo on December 13, and the hair loss started shortly after that.

And the progression was rapid. 

I started wearing hats right away. 

All my hair was gone by December 31. 

I wore hats outside of work (even at home). At work, I wore a wig. This is the one I wore December through May. 

And this is the wig I wore June through October. 

I acquired quite a collection of hats during that time and enjoyed wearing them. 

This is what my head looked like on my last day of chemo (Taxol) in May. This is the only picture I allowed to be taken of it. 

This is what my hair looks like today. 

I'm grateful to God that my hair is back, and I was amazed to watch the process while it happened. 

God has made the human body to be very resilient, and I got a chance to witness that. 

When I was first diagnosed with cancer, I thought that losing my hair would be the hardest part of it. As it turns out, it was one of the easiest side effects I experienced in this process. 

I'm so grateful to God for sustaining me through this whole process. And I'm grateful to have hair again. 

Cancer Musings (Oncology Appt-Cycle 2)

 Today I had an oncology appointment to check my progress on drug X. I just completed my second 21-day cycle of the drug. It's going okay so far. The side effects are manageable and my labs are okay enough to continue on. So, my "prize" is I get to take drug X for another 21-day cycle. 

Greg wasn't able to leave work for today's appointment, so I was on my own. Not only do I enjoy having him with me for a second set of ears and he asks good questions, he's also a much better selfie taker than I am. He was missed in many ways.

Cancer Musings (Appearance Reactions)

The part of this cancer journey that's been harder for me than I realized it would be has been absorbing the reactions of friends, family, and coworkers as my physical appearance changes. In the past 11 months, I've lost 80+ pounds, lost all my hair, and now have a completely different wardrobe. In some situations, I'm wearing a hat, in some situations I'm wearing a wig. My face is thinner, which has changed my appearance.  Even people who know me well sometimes don't recognize me when I walk into a room or when they see me out in public unexpectedly. 

A couple months ago I was talking to a coworker in the lunchroom who knows me but hasn't seen me for awhile because she works from home most of the time now. We were a good 5 minutes into the conversation when I realized she had no idea who I was. She finally asked me what department I work in. When I told her I was in the training department she looked at me quizzically for a moment trying to absorb that information and place me. I'm the only employee in the training department, so I knew it wouldn't take long for her to figure it out. And she did. 

The situation of a coworker, friend, or even a family member not recognizing me when I haven't seen them for a few weeks or months has become very familiar to me, and I've developed different strategies to lessen the blow for others and myself. I've become accustomed to entering the situation by saying, "Hi. It's Katrina". It's awkward, very awkward, but it does the the trick. 

Sometimes I tell people why I look different, and sometimes I just let them draw their own conclusions or ask me if they are curious enough and time and situation allow an explanation. My favorite reaction was from a doctor at work. He asked me, in a crowded room in the middle of a work day, loudly, "Katrina, why do you look so different?" I said,  "I lost weight and I have new hair".  He said with a smile on his face and chuckle in his voice, "That must be it." and went merrily on his way. Asked and answered. 

Many of the experiences that have come with this cancer journey I wasn't prepared for and wouldn't have known how to prepare for them. God has given me grace and answers at just the time I need them all along the way. He has been faithful. And I've learned He can be trusted in all situations of life.

Cancer Musings (Emergency Room Visit)

Today I made a trip to the emergency room at our local hospital. I was having some chest pains, which is a possible side effect of the most recent chemo drug I'm taking. Rather than spending the day second guessing if I was having a heart attack, I was persuaded I should go in and get it checked out. When you're going through cancer treatment, there is a tendency to constantly second guess every little thing that happens in your body. Is it a side effect of some treatment (because they all have side effects) or is it something more serious?

Everything checked out fine. No heart attack (likely some radiating pain from a strained muscle in my arm). We were out of there in under 2-1/2 hours, which is pretty good for a trip to the emergency room on a Saturday afternoon. 

This is a picture of the CNA who was on duty this afternoon. He performed the EKG and did the blood draw on me. I couldn't help but take his picture each time he left and walked back into the room (which I think he found a little distracting and slightly odd). He was very good at his job. Usually, it's pretty difficult to do a blood draw on me (hard to find a vein, many attempts are made), but this guy got it on the first try. I'm glad he was on duty today. 

He told me he wasn't on the schedule to work today; he had just picked up a shift. 

This was no accident or coincidence as far as I'm concerned. 

I believe God put him there at just that time. And I'm glad he was there. 

Oh yeah, "this guy" just happens to be my brother. 

Cancer Musings (Oncology Appt-Cycle 1)

Today was my first follow-up appointment with the oncologist after starting drug X (chemo pill). The side effects have been less on this drug than the infused drugs were, for which I am grateful. I finished my first 21-day cycle and got the go-ahead to start the next one. 

Greg has faithfully attended every oncologist appointment I've had. And by the grace of God, his schedule allowed him to do so. It has been a blessing to have him with me during the appointments, as sometimes my head stops on a particular piece of information and doesn't continue processing the rest of what I'm hearing. Greg picks up the slack for me then and asks questions or retells me what I missed later. I'm so grateful for him. 

Cancer Musings (Swollen Legs & Tears)

I had a Physical Therapy appointment two weeks ago, and I'm finally able to talk about it. Ever since being on Taxol (which ended May 1), my legs have been quite swollen. The oncologist put me on a medication for it, but it was ineffective and brought its own side effects with it, so we discontinued it. I asked for a referral to Physical Therapy instead. I walked out of the physical therapist's office in tears. I wasn't upset by anything the physical therapist said or did, but I was overwhelmed by the magnitude of the treatment course. 

The "prescription" for the swollen legs was to engage in a process called "edema wrapping". This involves wrapping my legs from foot to knee in multiple layers of compression wraps (stretchy Ace bandages) every day and leave them on for 23 hours a day. I get one hour off for good behavior (and to take a shower). The physical therapist trained me how to do this rather technical process myself, so I wouldn't have to go to the office for an appointment to have it done every week. It takes at least 30 minutes to perform this task every day. If I follow the prescribed advice from my oncologist to apply a heavy-duty therapeutic lotion to my feet everyday (to avoid a side effect to my feet caused by the current chemo drug I'm taking) then I end up wrapping my legs twice a day. This news was enough to make a grown woman cry (and it did). The time consuming nature of cancer treatment (and all the side effects that accompany it) is overwhelming to the say the least. 

The idea behind this treatment is to reduce the swelling in my legs enough to reward me by ordering me a specialized (and spendy) pair of compression stockings that I can wear everyday instead of the bandages. 

Once I stopped crying, I determined in my heart to be a big girl about it and perform the treatment as prescribed. That appointment was two weeks ago, and the good news is that the swelling is reducing in my legs. I still have another week or more to go in the treatment, and by the grace of God my technique is improving and I'm shaving a few minutes off of the process each time. God is good, and He is faithful. He's been with me every step of this journey, even in the tears. Especially in the tears. 

Cancer Musings (The New Drug)

Last week I started the new chemo drug. We'll call it drug X. This drug is being used as a maintenance therapy. Triple Negative Breast Cancer is somewhat rare (10-15% of all breast cancers diagnosed are triple negative/non-hormone dependent). It is aggressive (it grows fast). And it has a high return rate within 5 years. The lower the stage the better the chance of it not returning sooner. Mine was stage 1. 

There has been success in recent studies for women who have done this maintenance drug after traditional chemo, surgery, and radiation. A high percentage of them are still alive after 5 years. Encouraging and sobering at the same time. But, really, nothing has changed. My days have always been numbered. God has known the exact number of my days on this earth before I was even born. I will get no more than that and no less. And within that prescribed number of days is a story. I'm living out that story right now. Cancer is part of mine. It is one of the things God will use to bring Himself glory and allow me to see His goodness in all things. 

The way this chemo pill works is that I take it two times a day (3 pills/2x a day) for a cycle and then return to see the oncologist to check in and have labs drawn and get the okay to start another cycle. A "cycle" is 21 days. Within that 21 days, I take this chemo pill twice a day for 14 days and then I stop taking it for 7 days. Today is day 8 in the first cycle, and so far so good. It's not without its side effects (nausea and general chemo weirdness for lack of a better explanation), but it is tolerable so far. The goal with this treatment is to complete 8 cycles (about 6 months) if I tolerate it. 

And onward we go. 

Cancer Musings (Birthday)

Today is my birthday. I turned 55 years old today. I'm grateful for another year and the opportunity to glorify God on this earth. I've felt every moment of this year, and it's made me appreciate things more. 

No big outward celebration this year, but it was very celebratory nonetheless. I spent the day at work and enjoyed several coworkers stopping by to enjoy a birthday cookie with me. My coworkers have been so kind to me throughout this year, and God has used them to encourage me and keep me going throughout the whole year. 

For dinner this evening, Greg (and Papa-Larry) took me out to a restaurant. They were a bit surprised by my choice. Buffalo Wild Wings. I wasn't looking for expensive and I wasn't looking for fancy, but I was looking for chocolate cake. It is a little known fact (until today) that one of the best pieces of chocolate cake you'll find in a restaurant is at Buffalo Wild Wings. True story. Usually, Greg and I split a piece, but since today we were splitting it amongst three people, I ordered two pieces (happy birthday to me). Through most of this past year, I didn't eat chocolate because I couldn't stand the taste of it (an experience that had been completely foreign to me up to this point in life). The joy of tasting chocolate has returned for the moment, and I knew just where and how to celebrate that little victory. I had my piece of chocolate cake, and it did not disappoint. 

 I will be starting the new chemo drug (an oral pill) next week. My only request concerning this next treatment was to start it after September 4. I have felt physically well this past month, and I wanted to enjoy that feeling (and be able to taste cake) on my birthday. God allowed me that joy. He is so good, and He is in this story.

Cancer Musings (Oncology Appointment/Update)

Today I had an appointment with my oncologist to discuss the next chemo treatment. I was diagnosed with breast cancer back in early November, and in the past nine months I've had two courses of IV chemo (Adriamycin & Taxol), surgery, and radiation treatment. The treatments were hard on me, and the side effects were rough. They exhausted me and weakened me. At moments, they discouraged me. But far more than any other thing, I have been encouraged by the goodness of God and and the kindness of people through this entire journey. I can say with Nehemiah of the Bible, "the joy of the Lord has been my strength" (Nehemiah 8:10). 

In the past month, I have felt very good. My appetite and taste of food has mostly returned, and my energy levels rival those of pre-November days. I am so grateful to God for the gift of feeling well at the present time. 

Today's appointment with the oncologist went well, and I will start an oral chemo drug in mid-September. The purpose of the drug is to lessen the risk of recurrence. It has been proven to be effective in women with triple-negative breast cancer. I will be on it for six months. I'm not looking forward to the side effects that inevitably come with any chemo treatment, but they are reported to be somewhat milder with this treatment, and I should be able to keep the hair this time around. 

As is our custom, Greg and I made sure we took a picture together at this appointment, and you'll find that below. 

P.S. The hair is coming back. It's short, but it's there. 

Cancer Musings (Last Radiation Treatment #20)

Today was my last radiation treatment (20 treatments over 4 weeks). By the grace of God, the side effects of radiation were relatively minor for me. I did not experience the fatigue others reported, and the skin irritation was  minimal. The emotional side effects of radiation treatments were far more difficult for me than the physical ones, which caught me by surprise. 

I will not miss the daily schedule of radiation treatments. It was tricky to balance my work schedule and daily appointments. Even though the treatments only lasted about 10 minutes, the whole process (with drive time) took about two hours out of the day. 

God did provide many blessings for me in the middle of radiation treatments, though. I met new people and shared in their stories, which helped me process my own. My compassion for those experiencing ongoing treatments for any disease has increased. May I never forget what it feels like to have someone enter into suffering with you and may I do the same for others.