Rest As Re-Creation

In the smokey toasty haze of fatigue
Under a shower of warmth,
Stretched taught on the couch,
Tucked up in bed,
Teeth aching and grumpy,
Ears ringing, head singing;
Each day the gantry beams its photons at warp speed.


Nodding off in the train,
Slipped away from a meeting,
Harried by the strain.
Reading Ludlum's hero Jason Bourne
Using rest as a weapon.
I sit long on my cushion,
Enjoying rest as recreation.

I Reflect Therefore I Am.

But first here is a picture of the lump by ultrasound.

Palpable Lump in Adam's left thigh.

Looks like Jupiter's great Red Spot. Three Earth's would fit in this atmospheric cloud.  I don't know about the 'dark matter' in my thigh.  But I could start rapping on what it might be. Could it be lifetimes of accumulated angst and pain manifest and ready to be expunged?  Oh what freedom that would bring.

Jupiter's Great Red Spot.

And now for the benefit of my dear sister who loves a picture; I finish with the Linear Particle Accelerator which although its sounds energetic, is making me feel depleted and  unfortunately, a tad grumpy.

The Linear Particle Accelerator (LINAC)

The linear accelerator uses microwave technology (similar to that used for radar) to accelerate electrons in a part of the accelerator called the "wave guide," then allows these electrons to collide with a heavy metal target. As a result of the collisions, high-energy x-rays are produced from the target. These high energy x-rays are shaped as they exit the machine to conform to the shape of the patient's tumor and the customized beam is directed to the patient's tumor. The beam comes out of a part of the accelerator called a 'gantry' which can be rotated around the patient. Radiation can be delivered to the tumor from any angle by rotating the gantry and moving the treatment couch.

www.radiologyinfo.org

I Stand Corrected.

I had this notion the machine harbored radioactivity and somehow contained a neutered version which doesn't make you glow in the dark whilst at the same time destroys the DNA of cancer cells.  Turns out I was wrong.  The xray machine creates a beam of photons generated electrically.  The beam is shaped by several series of lead panels about 70 mm high and about 5mm thick.  These direct the beam to what ever shape the radiologist requires. So its photons, not a radioactive beam of flesh melting rays.

Rode the pushbike today and yesterday. Brilliant, felt strong and fast.

Who Are You in Your Long White Beard,

I wrote an untitled  poem in April 1988 which I never really understood. It tumbled out of me and made perfect sense poetically but still I don't know what its about.  Now, with the gravity of this disease it may have found its time.  I'm not going to transcribe it here now but, as this blog takes new directions I will in time, put down its 57 lines and give it the light of day.

The strappers made a comment yesterday regarding the size of the lump, commenting that the purpose of radiotherapy is to reduce its size.  I remember the oncologist surgeon saying in passing that size was not all important but that he hoped it would reduce.  When I feel its dimensions I fancy it has changed in texture more than anything else. I sense it could be mushier. But when I probe deeper its surface may be softer but its a hard little stone.

Its tempting to objectify the Lump.  To give it qualities and insert it into the story as a character.  Its a strange Cat.  Alien.  But to so, is to give it existence and a beginning, a middle and an end. If I denied its existence, unthought its presence,  would it die?  I sense not.  I think denial could be its Shiraz.

There's a crack, a crack in everything, that's how the light get it. (Leo Cohen)

"Mediate it the fuck out"

Since I was starting to wonder about the condition of the tumor and the surrounding flesh as several days of the treatment have passed, I wanted to know if it would be OK to give my leg a workout (along with the rest of my body).  This started a discussion with my strappers who assured me it would fine to ride my bicycle and probably a good thing as, 'Oxygen effects the radiosensitivity of tumors. Hypoxia has been shown to drive malignant progression'.


This means a tumor thrives when its being starved of oxygen and diminishes when exposed.  The idea promotes the sense that tumors like everything bad for us and hate everything that good for us.  I developed a deep appreciation of Shiraz recently which came out of nowhere and is strange because it makes me bite my nails.  I picked up a brochure today at Peter Mac that suggested removing alcohol from the diet would be a good thing.  Could it be this gravitation toward Shiraz is the call of the Tumor seducing me into a condition where it can thrive.  If that is even slightly true then I will as my brother encourages, "Meditate it the fuck out".  It reminds me of a poem I once wrote and will post soon.

I have Googled Oxygenation and Radiology as the strappers advised and true enough, oxygen and radiology give cancer a hiding to nothing. The scientific literature is somewhat more verbose  but reading between the lines, Shiraz is an elixer for which my appreciation has soured.

I think its Going to get Uncomfortable

New machine today. Looks like the other.
The machine attendant (a very nice human being) asked me how it felt today. I said, "I had a sense  I could feel something inside my thigh", she asked if I was putting the sorbolene on, I said "no I was waiting for evidence of something on the skin", she said, "better to moisturise now as a preventative measure", I said, "sometimes it hurts a bit, is that what you would expect?". She said "yes"

When I left I could definitely feel a soreness in and around the lump.  I have 5 weeks to go and I'm thinking this is going to get uncomfortable.  I have been commuting on Gina the motorcycle this week so I am wondering what it will be like when I start riding the pushbike again.

I am going to have to blog something about the fact that each day my genitals get strapped away from the machines all seeing eye.  There I was chatting away trying to get my new phone to see the machine as they strapped away.  From now on the machine attendants can be known as my Strappers.

The machine attendant asked me how it felt today

What would happen if........

I asked to day what would happen if they let the xray continue with the same intensity for longer.
The nice lady told me a hole would appear in my leg as the cells collapsed.
I asked if it would be painful and she assured me it would.  She also said the machine would not let that happen. Tomorrow I am taking a photo of the machine. It's huge head manoeuvres above me.  I think it has a face, albeit upside down.

I meet other people at Peter Mac.  All with similar ailments.  Some people stand in front of the machine for 10 minutes at a different intensity.  Of course we all share our specifics. How long we have been coming for treatments, how many to go.  There are some who are receiving other treatments, chemo or what ever. People with beanies covering  bald heads.

Voldemort

Like a blackhead waiting to be squeezed from its pore, or St George's Dragon and Harry Potter's nemesis Lord Voldermort, the lump is the shadow which walks with us everywhere all the time.

Here you can see where it lives, how comfortable it sits and its present condition.  The cross is the place of the tattoo where the machine registers its lasers. The dashes indicate the area being treated.

Owning one of these drags one out of denial.  It's a manifest lump.  But its reality is with us all the time.  Everything dies.  Death stalks. It may come by surprise or accumulate incrementally, or torture  slowly.  Why and how is a mystery with us for every event of our mortal lives.  We image its presence as foreboding and painful but, is it also a blessing?  If I don't take life for granted I learn to appreciate the power and beauty of physical existence and with that experience, I know there is more.  If this blackhead is the sum of all my fears,  then sitting quietly and bathing in the knowledge there is more, is the blessing of my lump. It reminds me of the truly wonderful presence of life and the mystery.

This lump however is not painful.  The sum of my fears is my pain. For others the physical torture of their lump and/or the cure to their illness is excruciating, requiring palliative care.  I hope this engagement with the 'other' (aka 'the mystery', the 'True Source') is the place in the sun when all around is pain.  I am reminded of the words to a negro spiritual song, This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it Shine, let it Shine, let  it Shine, I'm gonna let it Shine. 

What's it like being radiated

Having already made a foam impression of both my legs the radiologist positions my legs in the foam cast and lines up the rest of my body on the table which sits beneath the head of the machine. Lasers are used to register the machine head with tattoo dots on my thigh. The x-ray beam leaves the machine head as a single point and it spreads in a narrow triangle over an area just above my knee to the crook of my groin. The width is the same as my thigh about 150mm. They can crop and aim the beam in whatever configuration they need. In my case the treated area is 4 times larger than the cancerous growth and this is to destroy microscopic cancer cells in the Tuma's locality.

When positioning my body they carefully strap my genitals away from the beam as testicles are especially sensitive to radioactive death rays. The oncology staff are very caring, communicative and sensitive. They help you feel comfortable with the hi tech equipment even though a constant stream of people with various stages of cancer are being prepared for the 'treatment'. My lump is of intermediate aggressiveness so its not a sleeper and neither is it a rabid dog.

The machine is very dexterous. Everything moves with a humm of efficient electric motors. The table goes north, south, east, west, up and down. The sound of up-tempo muzak plays from the somewhere and when the staff leave the room to escape the death ray's cumulative radioactive weaponry a door bell chimes to let you know you are alone with the machine and the lump.

I am not sure I can feel the beam in my flesh but again, I know its there. I wonder what it would be like if they let it run longer than the prescribed 15 to 20 seconds. Would my skin crawl or crackle? Would it hurt or blister. I fancy I can feel its presence but if they played a song I recognise on the invisible radio I would be distracted enough to ignore the sensation.

So far so good. Talking to the Chief radiologist today I have an idea the surgeon will want to remove a significant piece of my leg when the time comes.

Next session in two days-Monday 18th July.

PEACE

DAY 2-

Today was quick-People polite. In and out.

Attending these appointments, all the driving involved is going to need some adaptation.

I will have to take some work home. I am loosing hours and placing an additional burden on my work mates. Not insurmountable though, with a little clever organisation.

I sense an awareness of the lump as though it has been detected by something. It could be the radiation, I suppose it must be, otherwise radiation is less of a drama than visiting the dentist for a check. More tomorrow.

Saw my dear friend Cath McQuade today. She is in town for a minute to see the musicians famous for the "The Good the Bad and the Ugly" genre of music at the Recital Centre. Her daughter is an adult and a musician. Get older really has its rewards and seeing her is one of them. Cath recently returned from Buenos Aires the home of Tango where she spent a holiday for a her 50th.

So much to do and so little time.

Radiation

Today is the first of 28 sessions where I receive a prescribed number of radioactive units on the lump in my thigh. I found the lump, about the size of a golf ball on the 23rd of May when dining with friends. My brother, (an osteopath) advised an ultrasound on the 28th May and after a number of tests I was diagnosed with a Myxoid Liposarcoma (low grade, curable) on the 16 June 2011.

The remedy is prescribed at 5 and half weeks of radiotherapy every day (except weekends) followed by a break of 3 to 8 weeks to allow the flesh to recover as radiation degrades it making it unsuitable for surgery. Then surgical removal in hospital for 7 to 10 days. There will be follow up checks every 3 months for 2 years then 6 monthly checks for 3 years and finally once a year for 3 years.

My first feelings after diagnosis was subtle and hard to read although I can say I felt different. Like my number had come up. I was the one in three who find some kind of cancer. I don't know where I get that statistic but it stuck in my awareness. A dull light cloud descended and once I became aware of its presence as separate from me I changed my behavior and carried on with my regular schedule. Riding to work early in the day, visiting my sons down the road, working and socialising. Soon after I got back on the bicycle (I had been commuting on trains and trams for a couple of weeks during the tests) I found my muscles again and I had this sensation of squeezing the lump from my sinews like a pip from a grape. Popped out on the road, diminished and left to rot. It feels like a separate thing. It doesn't look right on the ultrasound or in my flesh. It's a lump and if I were to let it go as one might in other times when less was known about the tuma, it would eventually spread to another part of my body perhaps create complications and eventually I would succumb.

The question does arrive eventually asking about the meaning of the lump. What does it carry in its cells? How are they created? What negative association has manifested the lump. What psychic baggage does it carry? It has prompted me to maintain my attitude. To look inward and feel the light inside.

Ok this is the second and really its me finding my way with blogspot.

Tonight is some 5 weeks since I found my lump and today its harder and more virile than anything else I can find in my body. It feels hard and big.

In two days I start radiation treatment, or more accurately I get nuked with xrays.

The Lump 1-Finding It.

This is my first blog on having a lump in my thigh.

I want to track my emotional, physical and spiritual experience of living with a lump in my thigh.

I exercise regularly, don't smoke or drink heavily and I found a myxoid lyposarcoma in my thing one night when I was having dinner with my male friends, Don, Peter and Steve.