The first radiation appointment went fine. On Friday they tattooed Val with a few scattered dots, the size of a pencil lead, based on info gleaned from her CT scans. (Did you know they actually tattoo you for this? I didn’t.) This afternoon they connected the dots with permanent marker to create two target zones for the radiation, one on her chest over the densest cluster of tumors, and one targeting the tumorous lymph node above her left clavicle. For the clavicular one they can aim the radiation in such a way that it should not impact her trachea; but for the lower ones, there’s no way to avoid inducing the sore swallowing. Val said the actual radiation was very short and she didn’t think she could feel any heat or anything. (Once the radiation is over you are not radioactive, by the way.)
While Val was keeping company with other gowned, tattooed people in the inner radiation sanctum, I completed the orange fish portion of the puzzle in the outer lobby. This was a secret gift for someone’s white-haired mother I met on Friday, who confided that she enjoyed doing the puzzles but almost didn’t want to get started because she hated doing the fish. I hope she likes it.
After the zapping we met with the radiation oncologist, Dr N, again. He went over the weekend ER charts, mentioned that the blood cultures came back negative again, and agreed that it can’t hurt to take antibiotics. He listened to her lungs and said that it doesn’t sound like full-blown pneumonia and that they were “exchanging air pretty well,” sounding pleased. Of course the minute we left the presence of the doctor Val had a hideous coughing fit where she could barely draw air at all. Maybe I should pinch her during doctors’ visits to try to elicit this ghastly performance in front of witnesses. I did describe it to him, and he agreed that she could try tessalon perles in an effort to calm her coughing and allow her to keep food down and to sleep. He also suggested she try using an inhaler again.
A horrible coughing fit at home was redeemed by the advent of many kind and quiet friends who took turns massaging Val’s aching back, preparing enticing foods for her, and singing for her a glorious rendition of Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah.” And while folks took turns doing those things, the rest of us had a chance to hang out in the living room, telling tales and eating soup and laughing and generally shoring each other up. I’m exhausted, but I feel nourished tonight.
D
I did know about the tattooing because of the movies! I think it was “The Doctor” where the hard-nosed doctor gets cancer and sees how it feels to be a patient. He gets tattooed and that stuck with me.
I’m hoping for many less coughing fits, in front of doctors or no.