Tuesday, June 29, 2010

The countdown continues. . . .

I thought I'd stop by and leave a quick update . . . 

Today will be my 13th of 40 scheduled radiation treatments, and all seems to be going well. I've been experiencing a few minor side effects from the treatment to date, but overall I'm doing well and I'm looking forward to when this will all be over and behind me.

Honestly, the biggest issue is just the daily routine of running over to Sloan-Kettering's radiation center for my treatment, then dodging what seems to be a daily rain storm on my way to the subway at 68th & Lexington Ave. to head back to  Grand Central Station to grab the train home.

But, I know that things could be a lot worse.

Each day I sit in the waiting room, I see some familiar faces of those men and women who are receiving radiation, and chemotherapy, treatments for various types of cancers.  Those going through the double whammy of chemo and radiation look so tired and weak most days that I feel very blessed to be in the situation that I am in and that it's not any worse.

I've spoken to some other men being treated for prostate cancer. Some of them, like myself, have had surgery and are going through radiation as an adjunct treatment to increase the chances of killing off any remaining cancer cells.  Others, whose cancer was caught much earlier than mine, are under going radiation and hormone therapy in order to shrink their tumor in hopes of avoiding the surgical route.  This wasn't really an option I had available to consider.

We share our situations, and offer our support to one another like members of an unlikely, and unfortunate, brotherhood. To date, I'm still the youngest member of the group that I've met.  A somewhat unwelcome distinction that I just have to deal with.

Even after all this time - some 10 months since my initial diagnosis - I still find it somewhat surreal. As I lay down on the table while the RapidArc radiation system rotates around me, I stare at the ceiling wondering "how in the world I did I get here?" The impact that this cancer has had on my life, and that of my family, so far would have to be considered to be pretty minimal, but impact it does.

I'm unable to work a full 10-hour day at my office because of my radiation schedule, and as such I'm not being placed on any major projects. Of course, it's something that at a certain level I appreciate my employers for, but at the same time I have eight hours of boredom to face each day I walk into the office. Add to that the now very routine process of heading over to Sloan, waiting for an hour or more, getting my treatment, then making my way back to GCT for my train.  (and yes, I know I said that twice  . . . . hoping that the feeling of my boredom gets to you by its repetitive nature)

This weekend is the July 4th holiday.  An indication of how quickly the summer passes us by.  I have taken a vacation day this Friday, and it is my understanding that we have Monday off (it's never a guarantee around my office that we would have a long-weekend off) and I am looking forward to spending it with my family. Monday will be one of the few days I won't have radiation treatments, and I am hoping to take my sons out fishing this weekend - though I may have to wait until next weekend as it looks like boat we go out on is booked up already.

I have always loved spending time with Janet and our three boys, but it's amazing how much more I look forward to doing with things with my family since this diagnosis came about. It's one of those times where I'd like to turn the clock wayyyyy back and do a lot of things very differently. I am praying that all of these treatments will give me the chance to do just that, and make it up to my wife and family.

Happy July 4th weekend to you all!  Be safe and have a great time with family and friends.
Cheers!



Wednesday, June 16, 2010

In the words of that great American animated linguist, Homer Simpson . . .

"WOOHOO!"
I'm 10% of the way through my radiation treatments (that's four out of the 40 that are planned).

I met with my radiation oncologist last Friday, before my 2nd treatment, and he's very happy with the treatment plan and the coverage fields they are hitting during the treatments.

It's all pretty simple from my stand point.  I have to drink about 16oz of water when I first get to the radiation clinic so that my bladder is full for the treatment. This helps to help minimize the affect the radiation has on my bladder itself. After about an hour, I am told to go ahead and change into the hospital gown and wait in the inner waiting room just outside of the room that the machine(s) is in.

When it's my turn for treatment, I'm called into the room that houses the Varian RapidArc radiation treatment system.  The machine rotates around the table (couch) in front of it in a 360 arc - each time stopping where the appropriate dose needs to be applied.  Once I lay down on the table, the technicians turnoff the lights and turn on the laser lights and then position me on the table for proper alignment. Once that is done, the technicians leave the room and close a 14 inch thick lead door behind them.  At that point the warm fuzzy feeling about how safe this all is comes into question.



The bulbous portion at the top is where the dose(s) of radiation are emitted. The arms are either side are the "eyes" of the system - gathering a 3D x-ray image to assure proper alignment so that each dose is applied as accurately as possible. The table rises up to within 8 inches of the primary emitter, and the system rotates into position.

In my situation, the system rotates and then stops at five different locations, each time administering one to two doses of radiation - first a broader area, then a more narrowly targeted area.  Each dose is approximately 20 secs.

There is little to no sensation of the treatment - whatever I do seem to be aware of is probably just in my head (a mild tingling, or pulsing sensation).


So that is IMRT in a nutshell - or at least my experience with it. Four treatments down, 36 more to go.   I wonder if I will need to come in on the July 4th holiday?  The place must be a zoo the day before with everyone trying to sneak a treatment in earlier than their scheduled time.  I'll probably be doing the same thing.

Cheers!


Thursday, June 10, 2010

Let the Barbecue Begin!



It's summertime!  And what's better than a barbecue in the summer?

Today, in about 4 hours to be exact, I'll be getting the first of forty doses of radiation to kill off whatever cancer cells may still be present in my pelvic area (the prostate "bed" to be precise).

My wife joined me on Tuesday when I had my final planning session.  I wanted her to be able to see where I would be each afternoon, and to have a mental image of the room.  I didn't do this in order for her to worry more, but so that the "not knowing" part wouldn't be a burden on her through the day.

Am I anxious?  Sure - who wouldn't be. Over a period of about 20 minutes I'll get a dose of radiation to nine specific areas - about a minute a piece. I figure in a few weeks I'll be able to host a marshmallow roast in my edit suite each afternoon.  KIDDING!!

I've read and have been told about all the possible side effects . . . .  but I have know idea which ones I'll get to experience, or how severe they may ultimately be.  Time will tell.

CJP