50. Radiation Therapy - Week One (Skopje) - 7Sep2020

 The doctor said as long as I arrived before 11, we could get everything done today - so I somewhat groggily headed up to the hospital in Macedonia at 9:00 am - wanting to ensure I got the car back to the logistics team in time for their mail run.

Unfortunately, what the doctor MEANT was "come in a few minutes before 11" - so I sat there for several hours waiting to be seen.  Not the end of the world - let's be honest - I had a book and a mask and waited patiently.

First there was a CATscan to create a 3D model of my breast prior to beginning treatment.  This helped them to program the computer so that the radiation is ONLY targeted at the affected areas and not sent through my whole torso.  Sounds really cool, right?  It absolutely is hypothetically - but in reality, it's laying on a table while about 10-12 nurses rearrange your boobs in a freezing cold room.  At this point, it doesn't phase me - I'd be surprised if there were ANY nurses in Macedonia who haven't had a poke at my boobs at some point in time or another during this journey.

When they finished, they needed some time to program the computer, so there was another 3 hour wait until I had my first treatment.  I've been very nervous because although i've had PLENTY of x-rays in my clumsy life, I've read about the side effects of radiation therapy and wasn't exactly sure what the process entails.

You lay down on a table in exactly the same position you were in when they took your 3D model - and then the machine moves around you and radiates you.  It's painless at the time and takes about 10 minutes.

The two radiation therapy techs are both gorgeous young men, old enough to be my kids.  But they're very positive and professional and caring - and I'm grateful for them.  Their names are Nebojsa  (Neh-BOY-sha) and Alexei.  Nebojsa is the kind one - Alexei is the super serious one.

When it was over - I drove back to the base.  No big deal.   Until about three hours later when I started feeling stabbing burning pains in my breast.  Totally normal, according to the internet.  Took some tylenol and forgot about it.

Next day - things went MUCH smoother - you go in to the changing room and put on a gown, they come and get you and take you to the radiation room, you do your ten minute treatment, and you're out of there.  It takes about an hour to drive to the hospital each way and then about 30 minutes total to complete the treatment, including dressing.  Easy breezy.  The burning and stabbing pains are normal - they aren't consistent and they aren't unbearable.  Today it just felt like I had a really bad sunburn, so I blasted the A/C on my chest the whole way home.

Three more days and all went smoothly - thankfully, there's no treatment on the weekend - which is a nice respite from the drive and the radiation.

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52. Radiation - End of Week #1

 One week down, four to go.

The hardest part about radiation therapy is getting there - the drive to Macedonia takes about 45 minutes, but can be longer if there are delays at the border.  So far I haven't had any issues crossing either way - but I credit that to being American and female.  The guards frequently want to chat about America and their experiences.  This was my favorite this week...

I hand the border officer my passport.  He looks at me.

Guard:  "You like Biden."

Me:  "What?"

Guard:  "You like Biden, I can tell.  You know why?  You're wearing a mask.  Everyone that wears a mask likes Biden.  No mask?  Trump."

Me:  <laughing>

Guard:  "See?  It's true.  I know America."  <hands me back my passport>

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Spending a week with the radiology techs, we're getting to know each other a bit - I figured anyone that spends THAT MUCH TIME touching my breasts, should at least be friends.

Both are Macedonian, both are young enough to be my kid, both would be considered "model hot" but someone a generation younger than I.  To me, they are just "the boys" and very sweet.  

The hospital in Macedonia is a remarkable difference from the public hospital in Pristina that I visited for my bone density scan.  It's clean, efficient, and they have good protective precautions in place and enforce them (mostly).  It FEELS like a hospital.  And yes, you pay more for that - I was a little shocked at being charged for the whole five week treatment on day one - but it's worth it to feel safer, even though with Coronavirus that can be more illusion than fact.

The base is still on lockdown - so the fact that I can drive back and forth (and get across the border, since Macedonia and Kosovo are not playing nice with each other in terms of border crossing due to each of their virus numbers) is a miracle.  There's always a possibility that they'll close the border for medical treatments and I'll have to stay in a hotel in Macedonia, but that hasn't happened yet. 

One nice thing - I've developed a fondness for Albanian music.  So I get to spend about two hours in the car each day just rocking out to songs I can't sing a word of - and it's a good great from the routine.  I know I'm lucky to be off post.  I know I'm lucky to be getting great care at the hospital.  There's still a deeply rooted fear that the cancer will return - probably right when I've grown my hair back out - but there's no guarantee for any of us that tomorrow will come.  So I push those thoughts back down to the pit and try and focus on enjoying the day and the beautiful things I have in my life - even in the midst of all this madness.

51. Radiation Therapy - Day Two (Skopje) - 8Sept2020

Radiation - Day 2

I've been struggling to figure out the best way to express how I'm feeling today. The best analogy I can give is from the last time I went to a tanning salon - the young lady said, "We've just changed the bulbs in that unit, you might want to cut back on the time." 

 I said, "That's all right - maybe I'll actually get some color today!" Which, of course, I did - so much so that I blistered for a week. In fact, I am more than a little surprised to find myself fighting breast cancer rather than skin cancer from those days worshipping the (fake) sun rays. But I digress.... 

Getting up out of that tanning bed, I remember the SMELL very distinctly - the smell of burnt flesh. Singed hair. It just smelled very, very WRONG - and that's how I felt walking out of radiation today. As if I'd just emerged from a microwave and my insides were still cooking. 

I spent the hour long drive home with the A/C on full blast and still couldn't stop the feeling of burning. Even now, sitting at home in front of my wall unit chiller - I can't cool down. 

 It isn't painful, mind you. Not yet, anyway. The burns will increase over time and who knows how my skin will react. But it's...odd. I'm waiting for just ONE THING in 2020 to feel normal and comfortable and safe. But until that happens, I'm guess I'm okay with odd.