Radiation and the Silent Nod of Cancer-Fighting Comrads

Radiation.  I’ve heard about it many times, but never knew exactly what it was.  I pictured a gigantic microscope with a long nose sending out a huge light-beam right into people’s bodies, like the beams that would come out of the ceiling in Star-Trek to beam them somewhere.  But radiation isn’t like that.  In fact, there is no light beam at all.  If it wasn’t for the quiet hum and clicking of the machine, you wouldn’t even know you were being radiated.

Okay, maybe you would know.  Before you walk into the radiation room, you do have to cross bright yellow hazardous radioactive material and danger signs.  You do spend your time in a room with a machine the size of an Everglade wind-boat and you do have to lie beneath it on a narrow padded board.  You do get marked up like a map on a cow’s hide and you do have to lie pretty darn still.  But, it’s really not bad. 

As of today, I have officially begun my “radiation” treatment for my breast cancer.  I have to have radiation every day (Monday through Friday) for six weeks.  That radiation machine is going to zap any remaining microscopic breast cancer cells that want to start another picnic in my body and I will enjoy every bit of this, even if I do feel like I’m in a petri-dish.

This morning, I lay in my body “form” on the board, under the machine as they took all my measurements and cross checked with the physics department that all of the calculations were correct.  I didn’t want to breathe so I wouldn’t move a hair out of place.  I even held in a sneeze. 

The nurses got me all set up, the doctor checked on me, and then one of the nurses said, “Do you have any questions?” and I wanted to say, “What exactly is happening here?”  But I didn’t.  I kept it to myself.  It had all been explained to me already.  I just panicked a little because I forgot.  Oh wow, no turning back now.

So, there I was, all alone, bracing myself to be zapped with a Taser gun and nothing happened.  No noise, no pain.  I kept waiting and waiting, anticipating the beam of light to strike my chest.  I froze stiff as the humongous radiator machine circled my upper body like a hawk circling its prey.  Hello, machine.

And then, just like that, it was over.  “Okay, you’re all done.” My nurse said.  “I am?” I said, realizing with relief that this part of my treatment would be in the bag.  Amazing.  Little did I know, the high-energy beams that damage a cancer cell’s DNA (the material that cells use to divide) are invisible to the human eye.  Boy was I grateful.

I went back out to the waiting room, and there were seven other cancer patients waiting for their radiation.  We all did the silent nod of cancer-fighting comrades and I was out the door. 

I can really do this. I know that healthy cells are going to be damaged as well as the cancer cells, but my healthy cells know how to rebuild themselves.  Radiated cancer cells do not.  Yes!  Research has shown that people who are treated with radiation after mastectomy or lumpectomy are more likely to live longer, and remain cancer-free longer. 

So bring it on.  Radiation every day for six weeks for another 50 years of my life.  That’s not a bad trade-off.