And the Hits Keep on Coming

Yesterday was my pre-radiation appointment to map out my pelvis for future treatments, due to start the day after Christmas. They made a belly board, molded to my torso with a hole cut out for my tummy. The purpose of this is to hike my guts a little bit out of the radiation field.

After putting in an IV, they gave me the rundown on what the best diet is for someone going through radiation: no fresh fruit, only cooked veggies (and even then, no broccoli), no whole grains...pretty much everything I love and sing the praises of for good nutrition. While I was grateful that all this was happening now and not during market season, this still really put me in a bad headspace for my scan.

They had me drop my drawers and lie on the board they made for me, then inserted a dilator into the Department of the Interior in order to best mark my cervix and put a marker of some sort up against my backdoor. After these indignities had been piled on, they ran me through the CT scan a few times, infusing me with contrast dye for the long final scan that would once again force me to pump 'n dump for 24 hours.

After the scan, they marked three pinpoints on my backside with a pin & ink, essentially giving me itty bitty tattoos. One of the techs asked me if it hurt more or less than the tattoo I have...yeah, not so much, lady.

After that appointment, I headed upstairs to the cancer clinic to meet with my medical oncologist (ie Dr. Chemo) and his support staff. I got to tell his nurse for the 1000th time in two weeks what drugs (supplements, OTCs, etc) I was taking. Seriously, people--nothing has changed in 48 hours.

To tell you the truth, much of the appointment is a blur, but the outstanding moments were my having to choose among three sizes of vaginal dilators which I will have to use for about a minute every day for the duration of my radiation and some time afterwards in order to prevent my vaginal walls from sticking together. Pleasant.

The other shocker was when one of the support people basically gave me the impression that the ovary surgery would probably not be all that successful and it was likely that I would go into early menopause, if not from the radiation then from the later chemo. The fuck? If that's the case, then what was the point of the surgery in the first place?

All in all, the whole thing was pretty upsetting and ridiculous and exhausting and then the icing on the cake was my catching a cold that came on like a frickin' freight train last night and now I can't breathe a lick out of my nose.

I had an appointment with the gynecological oncologists for my ovary transposition surgery today, but yous guys'll have to wait to hear about that because I feel like the walking dead and am about to go to sleep--Sailor Jody has been kind enough to offer to take on night duties for Little Miss, so I'll be on the couch tonight so as to shield myself from her cries.

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