Monday, March 31, 2014
“You can change in the bathroom over there. Here’s a gown,” the radiation therapy technologist said, a smile on her lips that barely reached her tired eyes.
“It won’t work in my regular clothes?” I asked, already certain she would say no but giving it a shot anyway.
She looked at my jeans and sweatshirt, frowning. “Not those, sorry. If you wear leggings and a T-shirt next time, something like that would work fine. Just no metal or thick fabrics.”
I changed and balled my clothes on a shelf in the bathroom, hoping it was okay to leave them there. Kyle and Elly were in the waiting room, and my dad was home with Beast. I didn’t want him to come to the hospital if it wasn’t necessary. I knew how hard it was for him after what he went through with Mom.
“Perfect. Are you ready?” the technologist asked when I emerged from the bathroom.
“I think so.”
She motioned for me to follow her, and we went down a short, inner hallway that led to a set of double doors. Inside, a giant machine dwarfed most of the room, making it look smaller than it probably was. The walls had a dark, industrial look and signs indicated they were lined with concrete and lead—thick and impenetrable to contain the radiation.
I followed her inside, my steps slowing, and my eyes widening at the gray monstrosity waiting for me.
“Lie down here for me, Mrs. Falls.” The technologist moved to a thin table in front of the radiation machine and tapped on its surface.
It looked cold as ice and my skin immediately puckered at the thought of touching it. Gingerly, I sat on the cool surface, a shiver going through me. “Can we turn on the heat in here?”
“Unfortunately, the machine must be a certain temperature. I’ll get you a blanket once you lie down.”
She left the room into what looked like an even smaller room. I watched her through a tiny, tinted square window centered on the wall while she grabbed a blanket and reemerged.
Pulling my feet up onto the table, I tried to find a comfortable way to lie down. My legs were bent by a wedge under my knees and my head was sandwiched between two boards that kept me from turning my head to the side. I stared up at what looked like a giant, metal circle pointing down at me—the tallest part of the machine.
The technologist draped the blanket across my legs and torso, warming me. I tucked my arms under it, grateful for the added heat. She positioned the table I was on closer to the machine, pulling several panels out from the sides so they were pointed at me as well.
It was overwhelming my entire field of vision, like this was my entire world now. And in a way, it was.
“How long do I have to be in here?” I lifted my head past the confining boards, watching her move panels and fiddle with the machine.
“The treatment itself is only two to three minutes,” she assured me.
I lowered my head to the table. “I guess that’s not too bad.”
“I need to put a holder over your head to keep you still, ensuring the radiation is focused on the correct location,” the technician explained, her face appearing over mine. She held a white object with bolts on the edges.
“A what?” The panic in my voice was obvious. “What is that?”
She gave me a small, sympathetic smile. “It’s a type of hard mesh. I’ll place it over your head, and then I will secure it to the table. I know it’s frightening the first time—it is for everyone. However, it’s imperative your head be completely still. This will ensure that happens.”
“What if I promise not to move?” I swallowed hard, but she positioned it above my face anyway. I was already held in place with the boards by the side of my head, further restraints seemed cruel.
“It’s not as scary as it looks, I promise. Plus, it’s only two minutes. You can do this,” she tried to encourage me, lowering it closer to my face, the plastic pressing down and pushing my skull to the table.
The material covered every inch of my head and neck, pinning me down and crisscrossing over my eyes, nose, and mouth with only the tiniest opening for me to breathe. I could barely see at all and my breathing was made shallow as my jaw was forced closed and my nose squished.
I was doing my best to handle it, trying to breathe slowly and concentrate on anywhere but here.
Then I heard the bolts locking into place next to my head and I panicked.
High pitch shrieks emanated from deep inside me, completely out of my control. I flailed my arms and tried to get off the table, but from the neck up, I was paralyzed.
“Mrs. Falls! Calm down!” The technologist sounded as panicked as me, immediately unfastening the holder.
I couldn’t stop screaming.
I jumped from the table the instant my head was free. Standing crouched in the middle of the room, my chest heaved, eyes wild as I cried, covering my face in my hands. “I can’t do this!”
“I know it’s frightening, Mrs. Falls, but it will be over quickly. I have to put it on you. I have no choice—it’s for your own safety,” she tried to explain.
“I can’t. I can’t.” I was sobbing now, my face surely bright red with embarrassment.
She was only doing her job, I knew this, but what I hadn’t known was what to expect from the doctor’s vague warning that I might feel claustrophobic. To be completely pinned down and paralyzed was another matter entirely.
“What if I get your husband? Maybe let him talk to you for a few minutes?” she asked, leading me back to the table and encouraging me to sit.
I sat, as far from the machine as I could, and only because my legs were shaking so hard I feared I’d collapse if I stood a minute longer. “Yes, please. Can he be in here with me?”
“Definitely.” She smiled, but, again, it didn’t reach her eyes. “When the actual treatment starts, he’ll need to stand in the other room with me for his own safety, though.”
I nodded, relieved, as she left to find Kyle. My cheeks heated, wondering if he would be ashamed of my reaction. He thought I was strong. The treatment hadn’t even started and I was crying.
I’m not strong.
It’s only day one. I have six more weeks of treatment and so far, I couldn’t handle the first thirty seconds. My chin dropped in shame, and I squeezed my eyes shut, breathing slowly. It’s just a mask. And a little claustrophobia. And two to three minutes. Then I’d be done…until tomorrow. And then the next day. And then after that, we’d be having a baby. That’s what we were here for. That’s why we were doing this.
We were going to have a baby.
“Tessa?”
My head snapped up at his voice, and my shoulders slumped in relief as he came toward me. I reached my arms out to him, hopping off the table only to stumble forward, forgetting how shaky I still felt.
“Babe, are you okay?” He grabbed me before my knees buckled completely and wrapped me in his arms, smoothing the hair off my face.
“I don’t think I can do this, Kyle.” I was sobbing again, this time into his shirt.
“The technologist told me you don’t like wearing the mask?”
“It’s not just a mask, Kyle. It’s bolted to the table, covering my entire face and neck. I panicked. I shouldn’t have, but I panicked.” I hid my face against his chest.
“Show me,” he instructed, leading me to the table.
I pointed to the white mask sitting abandoned on top. He picked it up, turning it over. It looked tiny in his large hands, less intimidating. Kyle shifted to the technologist, motioning for her attention.
“Ma’am, can you strap me up in this thing? Like you were doing for my wife?” he asked, maneuvering around me to sit on the table.
“What? That’s not really...” she trailed off, confusion overtaking her expression.
“It’s fine. It’ll just take a second, right?” He gave her a reassuring smile, handing the mask to her. “I just want to try it.”
I stepped back and watched as he swung his feet up and lay down.
“Okay, but only as a quick demo. Breathe normally and try not to move,” she instructed, bringing the mask against his face and neck.
It stretched to accommodate his larger head, and his nose was more squished than mine had been. His chest rose and fell faster as the technologist fastened the bolts into place around head and neck.
She stepped away and let me move in beside him.
Kyle breathed out. “Fuck, this is awful.”
At least, that’s what it sounded like he said. His voice was muffled and strained, a mash of sounds and syllables. His head was imprisoned between the table and the mask, every bit as unmoving as I’d been moments before. I glanced down at his hands, white knuckled and clutching the table’s edge.
Slipping my fingers around his, I frowned, unsure of what to say. My big, strong marine was strapped down like a lab rat, helpless and hobbled and it was all for me. He wasn’t sick. He didn’t have to do this. He didn’t have to be a part of any of this…but he was.
If he could do this for me, I could do it for me.
The technologist stepped back to the table and began unfastening everything, slowly freeing him from the confines of the mesh prison. He bolted upright and rubbed his hands across his face and hair, pushing hard and massaging his skin firmly.
I pulled his hand to mine and kissed his palm before pressing it to my cheek. “I can’t believe you just did that. You’re crazy.”
“Yeah, well, so is whoever invented that shit.” Kyle shook his head then leaned in to kiss me, cradling my face in his palm. “If I stay here with you, do you think you can do this?”
I nodded, summoning every ounce of courage inside me, and we traded places.
Kyle leaned over and kissed me after I’d lain down on the table. Once the technologist stepped in, I could still just see him in my peripheral vision until she brought the mask down over my face. I closed my eyes, breathing as slowly and deeply as I could manage.
“Babe, I’ll be with the technologist while the machine is on, but I can still see you. I’m still here,” he told me as the tech ushered him with soft words into the other room.
I tried to nod okay, but my head was immobile. I tried to talk, but the air was gone from my lungs. Fear replaced every sense, and I fought hard to keep it from overwhelming me.
Instead, I raised my hands, giving him shaky thumbs up. Random beeping scattered around the room and I knew the treatment had started, though little else indicated the massive levels of radiation shooting into my brain.
They had said it wouldn’t hurt, but I had expected to feel something. There was no heat, no pressure, no pulsing…nothing except a few random beeps.
I’d done some research on my treatment and knew it wasn’t devoid of side effects though. One day soon, maybe even today, I could experience symptoms as minor as a dry mouth to as serious as seizures. In about two weeks, I’d start to lose my hair, and, if lucky, I might avoid the scalp burns radiation often caused to the skin.
I exhaled slowly through the hard plastic against my face and tried to remain calm. A tear escaped the corner of my eye, trailing down my cheek to the table below. I concentrated on its movement, feeling it cross my skin as the time slowly ticked by.
“All done!” the technologist cheerily announced with the sound of a door swinging open roughly two minutes later.
I held my breath, waiting for her to remove the mask, waiting to be free.
“You did great, babe.”
His fingers wrapped around mine and I clutched his hand like a much-needed lifeline. I still couldn’t respond—any attempt to speak was only garbled sounds.
“Hold still, I’ll have you out of there in just a second.” The technologist’s face appeared above me as she unfastened the straps by my right ear. I wasn’t sure why she had said to stay still. Obviously, I wasn’t going anywhere.
The moment I was free, I slid off the table, not wanting to be there a second longer than necessary.
“That’s it, we’re all done?” I asked, massaging my neck with my hands, stretching it from side to side.
“Yes, ma’am. The first time is always frightening, but I promise it’ll get easier each go.” The technologist gave me a warm smile then began repositioning the panels on the machine.
“Why don’t you get changed and we’ll head home?” Kyle suggested.
I nodded my agreement, heading for the bathroom to retrieve my clothes.
“See you tomorrow!” the technologist cheerily called as we left.
I hated her for it.
All I wanted was to crawl into bed and never get up again. I hated being reminded this wasn’t a one-time thing. I hated knowing I’d be doing this nearly every day for six weeks. Then I frowned, because the truth was, I didn’t hate her or this hospital.
I hated having cancer.