On my Radio...part two : The Cancer Diaries pt 5

So then 18th October 2021, exactly two months to the day since the doctor had told me I had cancer I was back at the Queens Centre to begin a short, intensive course of radiotherapy treatment with a view to shrinking the tumour before a longer course of chemotherapy cleaned out the surrounding area (lymph nodes and that...whatever the fuck they are).

I was apprehensive on the way down there - it's about a 45 minute drive from my house - as I wasn't sure what to expect and the potential side effects documented in the leaflet I'd been given freaked me out a bit. For those who don't know what it is, Radiotherapy is basically radiation beamed into the affected area to kill cancer cells by damaging their DNA and stopping them from growing - it also fucks up any healthy cells in the area as well though. The side effects can include :-

Sore or sunburnt skin in the area treated - not looking forward to that!

Tiredness and Fatigue - my natural state anyway, no problem 😎

Sickness - I'm never sick, this'll be a new experience...

Loss of appetite - Me? Fuck off 😂

Diarrhoea - Hmm...maybe I will cut down on the food...

Hair Loss in the area treated - oh...that's ganna be weird...

Pain when you urinate - fuck's sake, I piss about fifty times a day!

Aaannddd some other stuff I'm not going into on here, if you know me well enough then ask and If I don't tell you then you don't know me well enough! 😁 

Anyway, I get there for my first appointment of five (Monday through to Friday) at 13:30, half an hour before my appointment time and report to reception in the Radiotherapy department. When I came previously for my pre-treatment stuff and borstal tattoos I could see a very interesting area that I was directed away from with people milling about and screens and stuff. This time I was going in there.

'No.1 Andy - straight down there, check your name on the screen and take a seat. Oh, and make sure you've got a full bladder for going in.'

Magic. We're playing piss yourself roulette again. 

So I stroll down to the waiting area for room no.1 cheerily greeting all and sundry en-route like I've known them all my life and take a look at the screen. One hour delay. Now the delay itself and the time lost out of my day aren't a big deal - I'm off work for the forseeable and have got nothing else to do anyway BUT timing a full bladder for being called in...that's going to be tricky. Looking round the waiting room I can see that's it's all male and I'm the youngest person in there so this isn't just going to be a problem for me!

I got talking to another bloke who was a bit of a veteran at this as he was booked in for thirty-five (35! more on this later) sessions and had been here all last week, his advice was 'when the screen shows two people before you, then drink your bottle of water.'

Excellent advice. Worked a treat. If you're ever in RT then you can have that golden piece of knowledge for nowt.

So, we're chatting a bit more and he asks how many treatments I'm getting. My reply of five perplexes him and he starts asking round the room. Turns out everyone else is getting between twenty-five and thirty-five which now perplexes me.  Then I'm called in and, while I had every intention of asking why I'm being short changed, I'm completely thrown by the presence of six of the female cast of Hollyoaks greeting me and telling me to get my pants down and get on the bench.  Turns out Monday was student day.

Don't know if I've mentioned this but since the Colonoscopy I've had zero embarrassment about anything, so with a quick reference to the air conditioning and it being a bit cold in here (went right over there young heads but always worth a try lads eh 😏) we went through the, by now, usual drill. 

Everyone exited, the machine started, didn't feel a thing and then it was over.  I said 'see you later' to all my new pensioner mates and I was back in the car. Piece of piss.

The next day I knew the score and was prepared for the inevitable delay. Saw all my pals (they schedule the appointments so you see the same people every day) and had a chat about football. Then when called in by two totally different ladies this time I remembered to ask why I was only getting five treatments as opposed to twenty or thirty? The answer.

'You're all getting the same total amount Andy but as we think you can cope with it better you're getting a much higher dose each day than they are.'

Always been greedy me like.

The third day was a little disappointing as the radiographers suddenly became male and one of them was obviously gay (I like to think he told all his mates about me 😁) but by Thursday I was back with the ladies and asking them to make sure the tumour was the only thing they shrunk down there and got another laugh. Nice to know I'm still funny if nowt else eh?

By Friday I was glad to have got it done and have the knowledge that we'd started turning this thing around and fighting back but I was also sad. I'd seen people ring the 'end-of-treatment' bell and clapped, I'd had a laugh and joked around a bit with my new mates but I'd also seen just how sick and frail some of them were and I knew they might not be around for much longer. So after my last treatment I said my goodbyes, wished everybody well and just sat quietly in the car on the way home.

Fuck cancer.