Just been to the 'dress rehearsal' for my radiotherapy treatment. The session was to mark out exactly where they're pointing their laser beams next week.
I'll begin by describing the machinery involved. The contraption includes a horizontal bench, which the patient lies on, a semi-circular arm (imagine a backwards letter 'c'), and box mounted on the arm which contains all the laser beams. The arm can be moved in pretty much any direction. The bench can also be rotated. This was part of today's adventure: to get all this gadgetry in the right position.
The second part was to mark out the mask in various ways to make sure they're targeting the right bit of my head. The mask as I've explained before is a thin plastic mesh that covers the whole face, with a little hole for your nose so you can breathe. You can not see, nor can you talk. It was, therefore, difficult to comprehend exactly what was going on.
There were at least two women in the room. Both of smelt of anti-bacterial gel, and talked in numbers. They hovered around my head sticking sticky things to the mask and scribbling on it. For all I know they were gold stars and glitter and they'd written the word 'twat' across my forehead. Although I guess it's more likely they were marking out where my head needs to be for the treatment.
The term 'whisker soup' also came up a lot, and it came in this context: "We're going to need whisker soup on this side." Unless they were discussing lunch and radiotherapists have predilection for some kind of feline delicacy, I'm guessing it's a radiotherapy term. I realise now I should've asked, but they'll be plenty of time for that later.
Other than a bright light going on and off, and whirring of machinery, that's about it. The whole thing didn't take anymore than 20 minutes. The actual treatment sessions shouldn't be any longer. They begin on Tuesday and will last six glorious weeks.
I have an appointment with the surgeon tomorrow, just to see how I'm getting on. Will let you know how that goes.
J
Wednesday, 28 April 2010
Thursday, 15 April 2010
May the 4th be with you
The date has been set for my radiotherapy treatment to start. And in case you haven't guessed it's May 4th.
But before we get into that there's the unusual procedure of making a mask that perfectly fits every contour of the face. First, take a near molten sheet of plastic and apply to the face. Secondly let set. And that's about it. Not, actually, an unpleasant experience. It's what I imagine it would be like to be attacked by a face-hugger from the Alien films, only without the egg laying and chest bursting business. There's a little hole for the nose to allow you to breathe. Fingers crossed I don't get a cold.
There's kind of a cross-hatching where the plastic is thicker. At its thinnest it's actually opaque and you can see through it. I'll try and get a picture at some point, or even better nab it when the treatment is over.
What followed was the CT scan while wearing the mask. This gives them a better idea of where to target their laser beams. All done in half an hour.
So here's the timeline: I have an appointment for a dummy run on the 28th April, just to make sure they've got their maths right. Then we do the first one proper on 4th May. This is followed by 30 daily treatments, not counting weekends, which should take us up to mid June.
Other than another MIR scan the surgeons want to do that should, hopefully, maybe, fingers crossed, be about it.
Will keep you up to date.
J
But before we get into that there's the unusual procedure of making a mask that perfectly fits every contour of the face. First, take a near molten sheet of plastic and apply to the face. Secondly let set. And that's about it. Not, actually, an unpleasant experience. It's what I imagine it would be like to be attacked by a face-hugger from the Alien films, only without the egg laying and chest bursting business. There's a little hole for the nose to allow you to breathe. Fingers crossed I don't get a cold.
There's kind of a cross-hatching where the plastic is thicker. At its thinnest it's actually opaque and you can see through it. I'll try and get a picture at some point, or even better nab it when the treatment is over.
What followed was the CT scan while wearing the mask. This gives them a better idea of where to target their laser beams. All done in half an hour.
So here's the timeline: I have an appointment for a dummy run on the 28th April, just to make sure they've got their maths right. Then we do the first one proper on 4th May. This is followed by 30 daily treatments, not counting weekends, which should take us up to mid June.
Other than another MIR scan the surgeons want to do that should, hopefully, maybe, fingers crossed, be about it.
Will keep you up to date.
J
Monday, 12 April 2010
Pigeons, scar update and waiting.
Ever considered the life of pigeons? Due to Jack's love of animals we recently installed a bird feeding station in the back garden. This was intended to encourage a variety of species of our feathered friends for both the education and cheap entertainment of our young son. What we got was a fat pigeon and a slightly less fat pigeon.
Over the last week Jack and I have witness a sinister culture of bullying, intimidation and violence. Starlings, finches and black birds are living in fear of the two 'flying rats' and are unable to access our generous offering. Indeed some smaller pigeons are also victim to these attacks. I'm not sure whether these birds are female and this is a case of domestic violence or not, but look at this evidence:
Of course it's just possible a cat had it and I've got too much time on my hands. It has been a slow week.
In brain tumor related news I'll be going for my mask fitting and CT scan on Thursday. My radiotherapy should start a few weeks later. Will let you know how it goes. And for those of you sick freaks who want to know how my scar's looking:
Just like Harry Potter.
J.
Over the last week Jack and I have witness a sinister culture of bullying, intimidation and violence. Starlings, finches and black birds are living in fear of the two 'flying rats' and are unable to access our generous offering. Indeed some smaller pigeons are also victim to these attacks. I'm not sure whether these birds are female and this is a case of domestic violence or not, but look at this evidence:
Of course it's just possible a cat had it and I've got too much time on my hands. It has been a slow week.
In brain tumor related news I'll be going for my mask fitting and CT scan on Thursday. My radiotherapy should start a few weeks later. Will let you know how it goes. And for those of you sick freaks who want to know how my scar's looking:
Just like Harry Potter.
J.
Saturday, 3 April 2010
Further treatment
Been to see the consultant this week, and they are going to be giving me more treatment. Specifically radiotherapy. This is just to be on the safe side and is standard procedure for a grade 2 tumor. They just want to make sure they've got it all.
For those of you don't know the side effects of radiotherapy mainly include tiredness and possibly nausea. They'll also a little temporary baldness where the beam goes into my head. But they don't include death, which is a good thing.
It will however mean going into hospital every week day for six weeks! I realise I'm whinging here, but it is going to pain in the bum, not literally. Each session will take about twenty minutes. It's going to be getting to hospital that's going to be the problem. As I can't drive at the moment I'm going to have to rely on Anisa, the bus and hospital transport. I shall be comparing and contrasting the three over the coming weeks. It's a small price to pay for making sure it's not coming back.
So here's what's going to happen. I'll be going to get another CT scan at some point next week. This is to get measured for a special Phantom of the Opera style mask that I'll be wearing for each treatment. Fingers crossed I get to keep it at the end. It's to make sure they target the area as accurately as possible.
The treatment will begin a few weeks later. Clever scientists have to do some clever maths as to where to points the radiation gun. I'm hoping it'll look like something out of a Bond film. I'm also hoping after the brain surgery failed to unleash my dormant psychic powers this treatment will give me some kind superpower.
So I'm not quite at the end of it yet, but as I said before I'll do whatever's necessary to get through this thing.
Will let you know how I get on with the mask fitting.
J
For those of you don't know the side effects of radiotherapy mainly include tiredness and possibly nausea. They'll also a little temporary baldness where the beam goes into my head. But they don't include death, which is a good thing.
It will however mean going into hospital every week day for six weeks! I realise I'm whinging here, but it is going to pain in the bum, not literally. Each session will take about twenty minutes. It's going to be getting to hospital that's going to be the problem. As I can't drive at the moment I'm going to have to rely on Anisa, the bus and hospital transport. I shall be comparing and contrasting the three over the coming weeks. It's a small price to pay for making sure it's not coming back.
So here's what's going to happen. I'll be going to get another CT scan at some point next week. This is to get measured for a special Phantom of the Opera style mask that I'll be wearing for each treatment. Fingers crossed I get to keep it at the end. It's to make sure they target the area as accurately as possible.
The treatment will begin a few weeks later. Clever scientists have to do some clever maths as to where to points the radiation gun. I'm hoping it'll look like something out of a Bond film. I'm also hoping after the brain surgery failed to unleash my dormant psychic powers this treatment will give me some kind superpower.
So I'm not quite at the end of it yet, but as I said before I'll do whatever's necessary to get through this thing.
Will let you know how I get on with the mask fitting.
J
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