Here’s one more photo from the walk a few weeks ago. My bro and family definitely win the best family shirt photo contest.

15 sessions done, 14 to go. Week 3 has started taking a toll on me. It’s mostly fatigue, so nothing I can’t deal with, but it’s hard not being able to do as much as I’m used to, at work and at home. Yesterday, I got home, sat down on the couch and didn’t get up until I went to bed.

The discomfort of radiation hasn’t gotten any easier. On top of the claustrophobia, I’ve had a nagging cold for 2 weeks. So I’m either dripping snot down my face or not able to breath through my nose. I’ll get minor panic attacks that cause a hot sweat. Today, the mask was pressed so hard on my face that my nose was squished and I was forced to breath through my mouth. I think there have been at least 2 times where I would have passed out were it not for my head already being in a lateral position. To make matters worse, I can’t help thinking crazy thoughts while I’m strapped in the machine. I chalk it up to being in a vulnerable position, but here are some of the things I’ve imagined:

– the machine falling on top of me and crushing me

– my body being pushed off the table and hanging only from head

– the entire staff passing out and being left on the table for days

– someone stabbing me in the neck or side

Why someone would attack a cancer patient getting treatment takes some creative thought, but I’ve managed to come up with at least 5 scenarios. Clearly I watch too many movies and read too much Stephen King. The staff is awesome though so I should feel more comfortable than I do.

Kelsey came the other day and was able to take pictures, check it out.



It may not look comfortable, but — uh, wait, it’s exactly what it looks like. A hard table with a sheet draped over it. Gotta be stable.



My last thought before going face first is usually something like “I fucking hate this.”



Here they put wax in my ears and cover them. Small risk the radiation could do some damage if they didn’t do this. Unfortunately, with little hearing in my left already, covering both makes it pretty quiet for me. I think they turn the music up pretty loud for me though so I’m not completely bored as I’m gasping for air.



Face mask is in place and they start lining me up. The face mask isn’t just closed over my head, it’s tightened. Enough to the point to leave the waffle marks on my face and for the first few seconds, it feels like my skull is being pushed in. It’s really painful and then it just goes away. If I’m in there for 30min+, the pain starts coming back.



I hope my cancer is dying a fast, painful death so I don’t have to.