- It’s Saturday evening in Seattle. I’m three-quarters of the way through my course of total body irradiation (TBI) , which has been a memorable, and unfun, experience. Since Thursday, my days have revolved around twice daily trips (morning and evening) to the basement of the UWMC center, where the radiation treatment facility is located. The process is not painful, but involves some stress (voluntarily subjecting myself to repeated doses of radiation therapy has involved a bit of a mental adjustment), and I’m starting now to feel the after-effects of the radiation.
- The actual process of getting the TBI involves sitting on, and in, a strange looking contraption with a bicycle seat and handlebars which is meant to hold my body still and precisely angled towards the accelerator which then zaps me with four five-minute doses of photon rays (two to my front side and two to my back). The setting for this process is a basement room with an 18 inch thick door. Given the toxicity of the therapy being administered, the technicians who run things need to be out of the room, but can communicate with me via an intercom and keep an eye on things with a closed-circuit TV.
- The technicians have repeatedly urged me to listen to music from their motley selection of CDs during the TBI. I have mostly demurred, preferring instead to try to get in a zone by listening to the clicking buzz of the photon beam from the accelerator, or mentally escaping by replaying certain familiar golf courses in my mind (Peshawar, Mbabane Club, Royal Swazi, Mhlambanyatsi Forest Club, the Neshobe, and Ravenwood). This afternoon, the techs again urged me to try listening to music, so I went with “Sergeant Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band.” I’m sure I will never again listen in quite the same way to “With a Little Help From My Friends.”
- Since I’m getting the TBI in fractionated doses (i.e., not all at once), the toxicity of the individual doses is not great. The cumulative effect is another matter. I’ve been feeling a strangely dry mouth and throat, some new taste changes, stomach upset and loss of appetite, and an increasingly crushing fatique. Nausea can also be pretty common, but so far the medications Zofran and Ativan seem to be holding my nausea at bay.
- The net effect of the TBI–which was proceeded, as you may recall, by three days of chemo–will be that by Monday, June 16, my marrow will have been “conditioned” (if we’re using the euphemism; ablated, if we’re using the term of art; destroyed, if we are speaking plainly), and I’ll be ready to receive my new stem cells. No word yet on what time of day on Monday this will occur, but as with most transplant patients, I’m looking forward to the event (my new birthday, in transplant lingo) with considerable anticipation.
- I’ve passed most of the time lately dozing (during the day), sleeping (at night), and sitting up occasionally for various doctors, nurses, and physicians assistants to perform a multitude of checks. And, of course, I do the twice daily marches to and from the TBI in the basement. It’s not much fun, but it all seems to be going according to plan, with no surprises, and for this I am grateful. Lisa is with me here at the hospital (including through the night). Caleb and the girls also visit during the day. I wish I were better company.
- The U.S. Open at Torrey Pines has also provided some helpful diversions. Tiger’s heroics on Friday and Saturday afternoons have been typically amazing. I’m hoping that the only Sunday drama that I experience will be vicariously through the golf telecast.
