It had finally arrived, the last day of treatment!
I stepped up onto the scale and by the time I stopped moving the little sliding weights I had lost almost exactly 30 pounds which was the red line limit of how much they would allow me to lose before forcing me to get a stomach feeding tube. In my head, I spun around and did an end zone dance right in front of Dr. K. Booyah!
It was all smiles from everyone as I made my way back to the radiation suite for the 40th and last time. I had maintained a "no photographs" policy for the duration of the treatment. Early on when asked I had said there are some things I just dont want to remember. Robin asked again that day if she could take a few pictures. Things were different now and I relented. She took one of me bolted down to the table and a couple of both the old and new masks. I had also decided earlier if they offered me the masks I would say thanks but no thanks. Same reason, memories I just didn't want. I hop up on the table, get bolted down, and the remainder of the process went smoothly just like it had 99% of the time before. The door opens, they unbolt me and thats it.
There is a bell mounted right outside the door of the treatment room. This bell is rung by the patient after their last treatment and can be heard throughout the office. Robin got the camera phone ready and I rang the bell three times. Most everyone involved in my treatment was there and there was applause, a certificate and a gift box of chocolates. They offered me the newest mask and I changed my mind on it too and accepted it. Then they said they would see me in four weeks for the follow up PET scan. Nothing until then, no blood draws....no weigh ins. That was a good day.
Sorry for the quality, it's a picture of a picture. This was taken Mother's Day 2010. I think every man should pose for pictures for his wife once every 25 years...
Bell Day (a little over a year later)
**** NOTE ***** If you read the rest of this post you must PROMISE me that you will read the next post as well. It's fixing to get ugly but the rest of the story is it gets better and you need to read the rest of the story!
Ok, if you are still reading, here we go.
Not only does the little bell signal the end of treatment, it also wakes the Hounds of Hell. If you remember, the OJD told me my pain would peak at ten days after my last treatment. Throughout the entire previous eight weeks I had strutted around the Cancer Center like I owned the place and acted like I was just too tough for cancer to even mess with. Around Day 3 of 10 I started losing that cockiness. I am guessing that Day 3 was the day I felt the first effects of the first "Boost Dose" that had been given exactly a week prior. It wasn't just a little worse, I felt like hell. Day 4 didn't seem like only one day worse than 3. By Day 5 my bravado was long gone and I was scared. Five more days?!
The problem is you can't call Time Out. What is coming is already on the way. There is no stopping it. In the hospital, when they check on you they ask you to rate your pain on a scale of 0 to 10. Well, I was getting a whole new scale.
Day 6 I remember being curled up in a ball on our living room couch with my head on Robin's lap and saying "I'm not gonna make it." I have no idea what that meant, there is nothing left to do BUT make it. I was very diligent on keeping my Fentanyl patches fresh. They are time release so every so often I would feel the patch kick in and would close my eyes. I would always say a little prayer "When I open my eyes, please let it be tomorrow." My eyes usually came open after about an hour. I don't remember Days 7 - 10. I can tell you OJD did not over-sell the experience.
Over the 8 week treatment period I had lost exactly 30 pounds. Between Day 6 and Day 10 I lost 10 more. I had started treatment at around 210 and at my lowest weighed 165.