Remembering Radiotherapy
It popped into my already full brain today, that three years ago I was laying on a bed in a darkened room, with my assets out, being zapped for the last time. So I thought I would share this with you again.
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I hadn’t given Radiotherapy much thought. I was told at time of diagnosis that I’d have it after my surgery, but with Chemotherapy thrown into the mix I was too busy worrying about that, and dealing with it, to think about Radiotherapy.
However I was told on numerous occasions that it was a ‘walk in the park’ compared to Chemo.
‘Well we will see’, I thought, because during Chemotherapy, there was no way I could walk in ANY park’.
After I had the last dose of Chemo, I knew I had to get that 3 weeks over with and I’d start to pick up again. It gave me the usual side effects and I was quite poorly. Thinking I’d have a break between Chemo and Radiotherapy, I went to the Oncologist and we discussed it all.
How naive I was AGAIN. No – at the end of that 3 weeks, they wanted to start Radiotherapy.
Every day – Monday to Friday, for 4 weeks. 20 sessions.
I was exhausted. I could barely think what day it was. I just wanted to go to bed for a month. However the Oncologist knew that I’d had a rough time (understatement) on the Docetaxel, aka – Evil Drug – that she was prepared to delay the start of Radiotherapy.
By a whole week. Ok then.
