Then... the diahorrea came on cue (2 weeks of radiation to the pelvis=diahorrea. I'm surprised I can spell it after the 18 hours I've just had!! They'd given me some pills when they hooked me up to the chemo in case this happened then but this was radiation diahorrea -was that different? I took my temperature-normal, called the hospital-they tell me the pills are immodium and to take them-it took 4 but they worked and I'm writing this after a good night's sleep. It put paid to my Saturday afternoon trip to the sea though. Christine is here doing some fab nursing care and driving and that had been our plan but we got 5 minutes from home and had to turn back. Southerndown is now on my list of things to do as soon as I'm better (it's growing this list as my life has shrunk to work/hospital /eating/Bleak House on DVD(marvellous).
Because I wanted to know (well you would..) I asked to have information on exactly what the machine did to me very day when it raised me up and made a nasty whining noise at me. The radiographers showed me the photo the machine took of my arse as it lies under the ray gun. It had a neat rectangle centred on my bum-that's what it zaps, front and back. The machine zaps my bum then rotates and zaps the front where the lymph nodes (the ones that could post cancer round my body) are. I am pleased to report that my first thought (voiced I fear) was 'not a bad arse'-happily, losing my vanity has not been a side effect of my cancer treatment despite living in this new world of phone conversations about diahorrea and pulling my knickers and tights down every afternoon and lying bare arse naked on a slab while radiographers minutely reposition my legs bum and thighs to line me up accurately for the zapping.
There are always others in the waiting room of Linac1 (LA1). We sit with Wimbledon on a wall mounted telly , a water machine for our dehydration and OK magazine, Country Life and The Lady for our delectation. There's a certain camaraderie-big ladies knocking back crisps and discussing the 'private' lives of celebrities now have something quite significant in common with me. A very healthy looking Irishman in a pink T-shirt with a shock of light brown hair asked me how many? It's the big question-how far down the being irradiated route are you? Significant because up till two weeks you won't be experiencing any problems, after that everyone is different-it's the big and frightening unknown. My dentist told me it would be five weeks of hell, this lovely Irishman was on his next to last treatment and told me (we have no shame) that his 'front' was just a little burnt and that he had a touch of constiptaion. His brother in law told me that I had the look of someone who would be fine (his theory, based on people in the waiting room watching over the previous 30 days, was that fat people suffer more because there's more flesh and folds). The thought I may be in the not suffering so much category helped me tremendously throughout this week. When you read forums on the Internet it's mostly people with horrendous problems who post. I know it will be hard but I may get away with minimal discomfort-imagine that!! I can now, thanks to the jolly Irishman.
Despite my life being all upheaved by the above one thing remains true -Life is Sweet. (I've put Natalie Merchant on Spotify)!
