Achy Brachytherapy

I've been avoiding trying to explain the next step...internal beam radiation or brachytherapy as the experts call it. I never knew such a treatment technology even existed, so the whole experience was a series of confusing and weirdly technical steps.  There are catheters and needles and probes, oh my.    All inserted in the vagina.  There is even a nuclear physicist involved. They would walk into the room with the radioactive "source" in a round metal cylinder.  They would "place" the source strategically in the vag and then the doctor (radiation oncologist) would check placement. Then all medical personnel...the doc, the nurses, the scientist, the cleaning lady, etc. would vanish--scattering in all directions to avoid exposure. Once they were safely out of range, a light would go on (literally the same sign for radioactivity you see in the nuclear power plant movies) and the clock would start ticking...something like 20 minutes at a time; laying there with what felt like a 6 inch diameter metal rod in your vag with your legs in stirrups.  I kept thinking about Chernobyl and 3 Mile Island between my legs.  I may have even seen a glow "down there".
Obviously I didn't understand it all, and looking back I should have asked more questions. Since this poor excuse of an explanation may not cut it for those who have been told they'll have to go through it, here's the official definition:
Brachytherapy involves treating disease by exposure to a radioactive substance. Doctors place a small radioactive source (pellet or seed) in or a short distance from a cancerous tumor. Brachytherapy allows use of a high dose of radiation while reducing the risk of damage to nearby healthy tissue and increasing the likelihood the cancer is destroyed.
Doctors may place brachytherapy seeds inside a body cavity, such as the vagina, or insert seeds into body tissue using hollow needles. Brachytherapy may be used alone or with radiation given externally. Radioactive seeds may be left permanently in place or removed after some time.
Brachytherapy is an effective option for some people who have prostate cancer or cervical cancer, and may be preferred for some women who have uterine (endometrial) cancer. Doctors recommend brachytherapy for people who are at risk for tumor regrowth in the upper vagina after removal of the uterus.

I had five or six of these treatments.  I guess it wasn't that bad.  Of course we say that about childbirth once it's over too. Bottom line is, this is the most powerful tool against this kind of cancer.  So who was I to oppose a little discomfort and humiliation?

They call it "therapy"... radiation therapy

Much like chemo, if you've never actually been there, it's tough to imagine what it's like. If you think about it, anything that you HAVE to do every day, whether pleasant or not, becomes a drag after awhile. So the first few sessions aren't bad, but you'll tire quickly of making the drive to the clinic (that smells like frying human flesh the minute you walk through the door) and the routine--wait, wait, wait, then drop your pants. 
Again, struck by the sheer volume of patients....who knew so many people had cancer?  Many are elderly and obviously frail...having been assaulted first by the disease, then by the treatment. I heard very personal stories in the waiting room...someone told me I was lucky to have breast cancer, because it was SO treatable.  Much better than throat or head, because radiation there makes you not able to swallow.  Perspective is good--always someone in a worse state...makes you almost glad to "only" have vaginal cancer. I didn't correct the guy...who wants to tell an elderly gent with throat cancer that you have cancer of the vag? Let him assume that every middle aged female there has breast cancer. They obviously have much better PR people than the vaginal cancer group...
Anyway, the treatment consists of young and artifically upbeat radiation techs leading you into the room and, in the case of vaginal cancer, lying on a table face down with your ass (discretely covered with a thin towel) up in the air.  You can't see much since you're facing the ground, but basically, they align the machine so the beams hit the area defined by tattoos placed strategically to get the radiation directed at the right area.  Each session takes about 20 minutes, excluding waiting time. Everyone's case is undoubtedly different; I had to do this every day for six weeks. Possibly the longest six weeks of my life. 
It gets difficult to explain to people at work why, when you usually work until 6 or 6:30, you suddenly have to leave every day at 4.
Radiation makes you tired; radiation to the pelvis gives you diarrhea.  That's it in a nutshell.

First, chemo

Being told that chemotherapy will be part of your treatment is unsettling at best.  Most people understand the concept, but until you've actually been there it's difficult to even imagine. Granted quite a bit of time has passed since I completed the prescribed sessions, but here's some quick memories......  Hope they help someone who reads this know what to expect.
--You will sit in a chair for hours at a time.  This was the worst part for me considering I can't stand sitting still, doing nothing, for 5 minutes--let alone 5 hours.  Depending on what chemo regimen they're using, it takes a lot of time to let the IVs of anti nausea meds, the actual chemo drug, then a saline flush (designed to minimize damage to the kidneys).
--The nurses are awesome; they often have many patients to deal with at the same time but still manage to make you feel like you have their undivided attention (most of the time).
--Doing anything while you're there is difficult--this includes working, reading, watching TV, etc.  Either the stress of the experience or the brain cell killing drugs make it impossible to concentrate.
--You realize very quickly that many patients around you have a much tougher situation than you're facing.  You can't help but hear bits and pieces of their stories since you're all sitting in very close proximity.  These tidbits include information about how long they've been enduring this routine, some for months, even repeating the process over again--dragging into years. 
--For the above reason--strangers personal lives so close to you--I found the most important thing to remember to bring is an Ipod.  No better way than to block other people's conversations from an already overtaxed brain. Don't get me wrong--I had all the empathy in the world for people there, but some people just can't shut up--even when sick.
--It is impossible to look healthy when you're bald.
--They tell you to bring snacks, but never felt like eating.  When I tried it, I was immediately nauseated. Some people had family bringing them in McDonalds, or whatever fast lunch was available so this obviously varies from case to case.
--Don't feel like you have to bring someone with you. I was never sick enough to not be able to drive myself...not to mention I usually went from work to chemo.  My daughter came with me once on a school holiday, and she was bored silly. Unless you have someone you can talk to for hours at a time, you're better off alone so you can NAP.  Napping is good.
--The warm blankets are great!  Always say yes to the blankets.
--The absolutely worst part of chemo is managing the impact of the drugs to your bowels.  Life starts to revolve around pooping.  Anti nausea drugs cause constipation.  Radiation to the pelvis causes diarrhea.  Managing this to a middle ground is miserable at best.

The most important take away from my ramblings here:  
You will survive this experience.  When you're faced with it, the courage will be there.  You can do this.

Next up.....the radiation chronicles.

The first point to remember

...if you've been recently diagnosed is that in all likelihood you are not going to die. There are doctors out there--both OB/GYNs and oncologists who may make it seem like it at first.  I've decided they're intentionally grim.  The basic premise of making yourself look good in the business world -- under promise and over deliver -- can apply in medicine too, right?
The fact is they have a prescribed approach to treatment.  They will recommend you follow it.  They will make no promises, and they will assume you will comply because you're scared and you want to live.

In most cases, the treatment prescribed involves chemotherapy and seemingly endless sessions of both external beam and internal beam radiation (use your imagination here).  Let the humiliation begin.

Telling the story

So this is the world of blogging.  I never thought I'd walk through this gate....never had anything interesting or meaningful enough to share. I'm just a middle-aged mom walking through life one day at a time.  Somewhat of a workaholic, but other than that no major vices.  Trying to raise a teenager through the 'attitude years' and into productive adulthood.  Trying to keep my sanity in an always chaotic and sometimes insane work environment. Plodding along day after day like millions of other people...making a living, raising a family, trying to find some enjoyment in life along the way.

Starting this blog for one reason only.....to share my story and hopefully help others through a similar journey.  Hoping to keep it interesting enough to keep the attention of anyone who finds it and can relate to the diagnosis. Hoping to help someone else answer the question....."WHAT kind of cancer?" when you really don't want to repeat the answer.  Vaginal.  Yes, vaginal cancer.