Today was my last radiation treatment!!
Yes, I AM DONE! I can't believe it. David and I had champagne tonight to celebrate and I feel like I deserve to drink about 4 bottles, at least. I got home and the boys had cleaned the living room of their toys and set the table for dinner (complete with flowers) WITHOUT BEING ASKED! It was a truly historic day!
This was my last treatment. I was in a super chipper mood even though I had to wait 45 minutes past my appointment time. Of course I'm one of many patients for the day - I swear the radiation technologists would recognize my chest before they would recognize my face. So they did not act at all happy or excited for me. No one acknowledged that it was a momentous occasion.
I haven't written much about radiation b/c there's not much to tell. The first 5 weeks consisted of 20 minute sessions every day. I was radiated from 3 different angles each time and getting the machine set up correctly takes time. Sometimes there was music playing. Often something harmless like the Beatles or Billy Joel but once there was some kind of mournful music blasting - it brought tears of self-pity to my eyes. It sounded celtic perhaps.
The last 5 radiation sessions were just a "boost" (a boost of what exactly I never bothered to ask - I do as I'm told) - radiation to the lumpectomy site which only takes 1 minute. Today they were playing Frank Sinatra and just as the music swelled into the final crescendo and Frank's last lingering note, the radiation machine went off. It was perfect timing and I was euphoric! I was done!
But as with all things medical, there's no time for nostalgia. At the end of the treatment the radiation technologists had the gall to hand me a schedule for the rest of the week indicating 9:30 am appointments every day. "I am NOT coming back and you can't make me!" I thundered as they scampered off to check my chart and update the computer. I think they missed my "no offense" mutter. But seriously, I already said goodbye to my radiation oncologist last Wednesday and she assured me that unless I needed her, I would probably never see her again. Neither of us seemed too upset by that fact. And I knew I didn't need more radiation after today.
But irrationally I felt like an elementary school student. What would happen if I just didn't show up for the rest of the week's appointments? What could they do to me? This is what I was seriously contemplating before they confirmed that they had made a mistake and I was done.
It was all anti-climactic after that. I just left. Walked out of 425 E. 67th Street, hopefully never to return. No one cheered; no one knew except me. But it didn't matter, I felt free.
I feel like a brand-new, cancer-surviving Heidi.
