I’m still here!

Still here and very bored! Radiotherapy is now taking up my life. It’s only for four weeks so I shouldn’t really complain. I really should be making the most of feeling semi-normal (sorry that word always makes me giggle – very childish). I know as each session progresses the tiredness will get worse.

I started last Thursday. I felt fine, no nerves at all. Nothing will ever be as bad as chemotherapy. I have to get changed into a smock – I can leave my jeans and socks on. Not like the normal hospital gowns, these ones have poppers so they can easily pop your boob out with the most amount of dignity (I know some people who’d wear it on a night out!).

They walk me through to a room which is bigger than my front room. In the middle there’s this huge, white, monster machine with a bed sticking out like an enormous tongue! On the tongue there are the bright blue (my favourite colour) plastic bits stuck to it which I know are to put parts of my body.

There is a little gap between plastic bits  (well they are probably fibreglass). On the gap I put my bottom and swivel myself round. I slide my heels into the bit at the bottom of the bed, knees over the ramp, slowly lower my neck into the upside down horseshoe and my arms are placed in another one above my head.

The gap between my elbows is measured first. The poppers are in-done and my breasts comfortably flop under my armpits. The ladies then start drawing on my tattoos which they gave me the other week; it’s only another dot, they don’t draw pictures. They then start calling out numbers to each other. The arms of the monster machine circulate around me and they continue with numbers and throw in a ‘good coverage’.

The air raid siren goes off and they leave closing the six inch thick solid door behind them. The siren stops and the teeth on one of the arms of the monster start chattering. The machine rotates above me. Its three arms all having a different purpose. The arms with the square screens on the end are taking images and the one with the teeth is projecting radiation.

This whole process takes about 10/15 minutes then one of the ladies comes back and I’m free to go, once they’ve lowered the bed and got me up! I still have my cough which I’ve had since beginning of December. They told me if I have to cough not to put my hand over my mouth as I’ve been measured. The coughing wasn’t too bad it was my eyelash. I have about 8 left and one decides to float down onto my cheek. Do you know how uncomfortable a floating eyelash balancing on your cheek is?

Talking of hair, eyelashes still falling out (see above) but I have a head of fluff! Very thin fluff and depending on which light I’m in it’s either blonde (some may say grey) or brown.

We were very lucky to pop to Portugal at the weekend to see mother and little sister. Flights were only £12.99 each way so would have been rude not to go. As my hip is still really bad and I’m unable to walk very far we had wheelchair assistance. OMG to say I was impressed with the service is an understatement. I’ll just give you the highlights. Taken through fast track security, lift up to the plane and in the back door, lift down, wheeled to the front of passport queue and the same on the way back! Obviously I would prefer it if I could have walked and queued but very impressed! Portugal was good too, wasn’t all about the flight. Beautiful blue skies and good company.

Radiotherapy again today. The times are better now until the end but being in the middle of the day I don’t have time to do anything before or after. We have to give ourselves an hour to get there. Sill, 4 down, only 16 more to go. I’m making the most of not being too tired by catching up on all my telly recordings. I know the exhaustion will kick in next week.

Again I’ve gone on a bit but hopefully given you an insight to radiotherapy. Best go slap some cream over my breast (then wash it off before I go), this prevents me getting burned from the radiation  xx