Our journey together has been fraught with my initial disdain, then lightened with my embrace of, the radiation protocol. The journey has been one filled with victory for the machine: I had to learn to love it. Somehow I truly had it in my mind that I would sit in a comfy chair or lie upon a Carthaginian divan and have at it with highly focused rays beamed into wherever they need, however they wanted and for 15-20 mins. a day. Not terribly inconvenient.
The truth, so far from fantasy, did shock, and continues to amuse me with its raw indifference to my shattered dreams. Yet I question--why does radiation have to be so uncomfortable? Why, in fact, in this day and age does any treatment not start with ways to comfort the patient? It seems we are the last factor in design--everything going into efficacy, but what is efficacy if you hate delivery?
Surely there's a way to have an MRI that doesn't squeeze you into a tube. Surely there's a way to sit up for radiation if your mouth, neck and jaw are the targets.
It reminds me too--I'm surrounded by multi-million dollar machines that are keeping people who would not lived previously alive much longer. Why am I still wearing a hospital gown that would look at home in 1950? Why is the patient area so fucking cold when I'm wearing the equivalent of a mini skirt with bad tie closures?
Too, I'm waiting for Dr. Yom today instead of tomorrow which would be our normal day to meet--and today, I'm waiting longer because she is in Tumor Board which she wouldn't have been tomorrow. Rarely, when I see doctors, does it happen on time. I'm a patient, I'm not patience. I too have things to do. Let's get this corrected.
I'm ready with all this ammo today--snappy answers and the fact that I lost no weight this week are on my side. Look out, Doc.
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