The other day on my way into our building after picking up a couple of things from Walgreen's, I ran into a lady who has been undergoing treatment for female cancer akin to the type I had. She's a year or three younger than I, is well-spoken, computer literate, and the mother of a very nice teenage boy. I'm fond of her and I believe she is fond of me as well.
When I saw her she exclaimed, "I'm so glad to see you! I've been wanting to talk with you."
She proceeded to tell me that she'd had fourteen radiation treatments and that she'd been given no literature as to what to expect or what she should do by way of adjusting her diet or liquid intake or anything. Not only that, she showed me a rather bad radiation burn on her lower back. The burn was at least four inches in diameter. I was appalled.
I got angry. Not at this lady, of course, but at whoever is responsible for her being burned, whoever did NOT inform her of the possible and probable side effects of radiation treatments, and whoever did NOT explain that she needed to be careful about dehydration and possible digestive issues. It's damned irresponsible, negligent, and downright cruel. Radiation will mess a body up and it's different for everyone. That's why it's vital patients be educated properly. My neighbor is literate and intelligent. There is NO EXCUSE for her having not been given the information she needed to have. Now? If she needs more radiation? She says she will refuse it outright. And honestly, I cannot blame her.
I had twenty-five pelvic radiation treatments. Four zaps every time. One at each hip, one in front and one from the back. Twenty-five trips alone down the long hallways of the cancer center. Twenty-five disrobings. Twenty-five trips to a spooky dark room full of science fiction nightmare equipment and an ice cold steel table to lie upon en déshabille. Twenty-five times the radiation technicians treated me with dignity and kindness. Twenty-five times they laughed at my lame jokes or comforted me when I was having a bad day. And twenty-five times I waited for the Red Cross transport to pick me up and take me home where I would do my best to care for my mother single-handedly.
I had no external evidence of radiation burns. I did suffer internal damage. Urination became a nightmare as did defecation. I was depressed and exhausted and constantly thirsty. I had to alter my diet to practically pre-digested food because any fiber was agonizing as it processed through my system.
Because I'd gone undiagnosed for so many years, despite requests for more testing, thanks, I had become dangerously anemic. No. I'd been dangerously anemic for years before I finally got the help I needed. Due to the weakened state of my entire body due to the anemia caused by the extreme nightmarish bleeding, recovery from radiation took much longer than everything I read said it would. Throw in the instant chemical menopause, the joy of hot flashes, and everything else I had to cope with? It was, to be polite about it, damned difficult. Honestly, I am stunned every day that I am here.
Anyhow, talking to my neighbor about what she's been dealing with brought it all back. And how. Yesterday afternoon, while napping due to yet another weather headache, I had a nightmare about being taken into the radiation room at the cancer center and having to try to teach technicians who clearly had no idea what the hell they were doing how to set things up properly so I wouldn't get burned or have the radiation zapped incorrectly and I woke myself up crying out and weeping. Poor Miss M was very distressed. I was incoherent for several minutes and couldn't even speak well enough to explain and she felt completely helpless.
Once I explained what I'd dreamed, she understood. Then she berated herself for not coming with me to the center, something for which she knows I've never blamed her. She could barely walk then due to her back and I was so far gone physically that there was no way I could have pushed her down those endless hallways in her walker-chair, much less gotten her in and out of the Red Cross cars going and coming. Even if I'd had a wheelchair for her, I don't think I could have managed it. So I had to go to the cancer center alone every single time. I had no one else. No one else at all.
Yesterday's was only the second nightmare I've had about the cancer center. The first one was about the radiation room too. I guess all the time I spent in that cold tomblike creepy sci fi place affected me more than I care to admit. I suppose it would be odd if it didn't haunt me sometimes.
I will admit that I'm leery of sleeping now. It's why I'm awake at 4 AM typing in my blog. I have the beautiful Rita Hayworth in
Down to Earth on TCM on the tv and nights like this is why I need such fare. The computer just isn't enough when you're chasing the cancer spectres away.
My neighbor told me that if she is told she needs more radiation that she will refuse to have it. I understand perfectly because I'm pretty fatalistic when it comes to such matters myself now. But then, I have no child and that would make a difference for me. If I had a child I would fight like the dickens to stick around. So I'm going to try and help her find better care and persuade her that she needs to do what she can to stick around for her son as long as possible. I do understand, though. I really do. The depression that comes along with the radiation and any chronic illness is awful. It's shocking. I fell to depths that I never imagined. That's one reason I'm so proud of myself for hanging in, especially since I've done it all on my own while caring for my mother. No drugs. No shrinks. No one but a few dear friends for whom I shall be eternally grateful.
If you haven't been through a catastrophic illness, you cannot truly understand. If you haven't been there while someone you love is so ill? Then you cannot understand. You have to be there. You have to feel all the terrors and rage and hope and pain and exultation and hopelessness and fatigue and determination and acceptance in person. Otherwise? You just won't get it. And really, many people are far too weak to deal with it. There are those who think they know all about it and how people dealing with such matters should be coping with things when really they have no concept of what it is like at all to sacrifice so utterly to save someone you love or to save yourself. Without the sacrifice and everything that comes with it, good and bad, the knowledge won't come. That's what I've had to learn. I've had to learn to shut out the ignorance of the finger waggers. I defy those who presume to think they know what I've been through. They don't have any idea. Honestly, they are unimportant and powerless. It took my getting well enough physically to get to the place emotionally and mentally where I finally got that.
Wow. That got all rambling and impassioned, huh? That dream really freaked me out. But that's okay. It's how we heal. We face our fears head on. That's what grown folks do. Like learning to face your mistakes. You face forward and make amends no matter what it takes. Atonement is a good thing. Most belief systems embrace such and there are valid reasons for it. It is how we find peace within ourselves.
And now? I'll leave you with a quote that was on my Twitter yesterday. There's someone who posts quotations from His Holiness, the 14th Dalai Lama each day and the one yesterday was quite apt.
Generosity is of three types: giving material aid, giving Dharma, and protecting from fear. 'Giving Dharma' refers to the giving of teachings to other sentient beings with pure motivation to benefit them.This fits right in with what the Dalai Lama spoke of during his talk last month. I'm still pondering my notes, by the way. I need to find my focus so I can attempt to 'give Dharma' to you, my dear readers.
Thank you for reading this far, my love. I don't understand why you're here, but I hope you are getting something out of it. As always, I do appreciate your kind attention.
