I begin the week with my verification visit. This appointment was like a dry run of radiation. They told me it would be the most difficult of all because I would need to hold my position for about 30-35 minutes. Let me tell you about my “position”. I have to lie on my back with my right arm over my head. That sounds pretty easy, right? That’s what I thought too. It gets a bit more complicated. I had a special mold made that is specific to my body and the necessary position. I lay there with my right breast exposed and they tape my left breast and arm down to the table. My doctor does not appreciate my cleavage (so unfortunate!) so it gets taped down as much as possible in order to get the angle needed to radiate my right breast area. My right arm needs to be lifted so that they can radiate under my arm where the lymph nodes were. Fortunately, I have a pretty decent range of motion since my surgery. Unfortunately, my arm needs to be in a very odd and extremely uncomfortable position and it hurts. I mean it really hurts! They somehow contort my arm and shoulder in a very unnatural way and then say “perfect, just like that.” Now I have to keep that position for 30 minutes. Are you kidding me? Really? I have to keep this position exactly! That means no moving at all. I can’t move my fingers, I can’t scratch that itch that always appears at the exact time I can’t do anything about it, I can’t even take a deep breath. I must stay completely still. I am supposed to relax and not tense up and I need to keep my breathing as regulated as possible.
I want to tell them that my shoulder may have actually dislocated and I let them know that it is not comfortable. In this case, comfort doesn’t really matter. I ask 20 minutes in if there is any way I can move my arm, real quick. They say “no, not really” and “if we let you move your arm, we have to start over.” I keep it there. It took everything in my power not to move my arm. Everything! It is challenging to stay completely still for 30 minutes in any position, but nearly impossible to do it in a “Cirque de Soleil performer” position. I finally finish and can put my arm back down. I shed a quick tear in both agony and rejoice that it is over. For a couple of minutes I get to put my arm down. I am pretty sure it is at least 200 tons, but I can’t be sure of the exact weight. After two glorious minutes, I have to return my arm to that same exact awful and painful position so that they can tattoo me. I get 5 of the most boring tattoos you can possibly imagine. These tiny tattoo dots are placed on my skin to ensure the accuracy of radiation. The nurses also draw solid and dotted lines all over me with a red, purple, blue, and black marker. They add to the 3 large X’s that were drawn on last week. My chest suddenly looks like a treasure map. It is as if a very drunk pirate drew a weird and confusing diagram of his hidden treasure on my neck, boob, and underarm. They send me home. I will go back tomorrow for my first treatment. They tell me it should be easier and my shoulder will only need to be displaced for 10-15 minutes instead of 30. If I could clap, I would.
Looking on the Bright Side…If I can decipher the directions I may find the hidden treasure, I hope it is a shoulder brace.
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