(#2) Two weeks behind me...

It’s good to have two weeks of chemo and radiation behind me.  Three more to go.  And it’s been quite a week.  The good news on Monday that we would switch from Photon to Proton therapy was what we’d been praying for.  Photon, like a shotgun, risks damage to surrounding tissue. Proton according to my techy friend, Dave Purscell, is more a high-powered rifle with a giant sniper scope... and really good brakes; no exit wound. It's like a depth control so that it only causes collateral damage on the way in.

Mayo's magic table and gun

The medical technology is amazing and more like scientific wizardry.  Some of you know what it’s like.  After they get me situated on the machine, the magic table rotates me to the correct angle and the staff steps out while we wait for “the beam.” The beam is apparently reflected into each of 6 treatment rooms where a patient has been readied and positioned. Then I hear over the intercom, “We have the beam,” followed by about 6 minutes of nearly inaudible clicks and whirs. There is absolutely no sensation, but there is a need to remain very still.   The beam shuts down and the magic table rotates around to the second angle.  We wait again for the beam and in 6 to 10 additional minutes, they’re helping me off the table and putting on my gown.  Altogether, it can take as few as about 25 minutes from the time my name is called, and the staff are so cheerful and pleasant. I know their qualifications must be primarily technological and medical, but they’re authentic, kind, and helpful.  I try to be a gracious patient, but they don’t need my help.

I know those waitresses!

I’ve thought often, “What a blessing it is to be alive in this generation”.  My dad’s heart and cancer caused the end of his life, a year younger than I am now.  I’ve had very similar medical struggles, but I can still ride bicycle 12+ miles, and there is very good hope that my cancer will be cured. My radiation doc says, “That’s what we’re aiming for.”  

We drive to Rochester for daily radiation (except Sat, Sun) and weekly blood testing followed by my chemo-cocktail. Jen and Kim take turns driving, leaving one day per week for Harriet to accompany me.  Driving has become precious together time with each of my girls, and I am so grateful that we get the chance to experience “our family” together again. 

Celebrating 51 good years

Today is not only Father’s Day, it’s our 51^st anniversary and, cancer or not, I’m so fortunate to be together with Harriet and both daughters.  Last night Jen and Kim suggested we should dress up and they set a lovely dinner table, bringing in a wonderful meal from one of our favorite local restaurants.  It was so nice and so fun. I found myself at bedtime singing along to a YouTube video of Don Moen’s old song, “God is good, all the time - He put a song of praise in this heart of mine - God is good, all the time - Through the darkest night, His light will shine - God is good, yes he’s good, all the time.”

Thank you to so many of you who shared words of hope and encouragement.  I’m so glad I have friends like you.