AS SEEN BY SUSAN

 

2020 has been all about Plan B, or C or X, Y or Z. Heck, even the tropical storms and hurricanes have had to resort to using the Greek alphabet to name new storms in September. Nothing is at all normal about this year, and it continues to stifle all the best made plans.

We were supposed to be on a cruise to the Baltic capitals and St. Petersburg, Russia. But the Coronavirus squelched those plans, along with a November trip to Egypt and Jordan. Both trips have been rescheduled and/or revamped for 2021. Plan B.

Good thing, too, because with my cancer diagnosis, we would have had to cancel them anyway but without all the perks that came with the Covid-19 cancellations and rebookings. The companies still want our business. Lucky us, right? So rather than travel, I get to go through chemoradiation. Should I call this Plan C for cancer or is it still Plan B? In either case, it really couldn't have happened at a better time considering we are stuck at home. I know, count my blessings!

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Plan C continues to unfold, just rather slowly for my liking. (I know, I'm not in charge!) Tuesday the 22, a week after meeting with my oncologists, I had my first CT. Or so I thought. It was really a simulation CT to position my body so that it will be in the same place for future radiation treatments. The preferred position is prone, which means on your stomach, but I never lay on my stomach. It hurts my back and then my nose/sinuses get stopped up. That's why I dislike massages; I am so uncomfortable that I can't appreciate the massage. 

But this was even worse as I was supposed to lie face down on this board made with cut out spaces for my belly and its innards to fall below the line of radiation. But with my head where it was supposed to be, my boobs were being squashed by a hard bar underneath. Everything hurt and I couldn't imagine myself being in this position for 28 radiation treatments. That's when I lost it. All I could say through my sobbing was, "But it's square and I'm round." And indeed it was and I am. 

To their credit, both nurses and the male attendant were all very compassionate. One nurse in particular, hugged me tight until I was eventually able to stop crying. Then my radiation oncologist appeared, and I talked and she listened and assured me that there was a Plan B for positioning me on my back for radiation. In fact, she explained that many people of a certain age can't tolerate the prone position. If the certain age means old, I qualify. Thank goodness for Plan Bs.

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To say it was a trying day is an understatement. And I know there will be more. I know I won't ever be a hero and muscle through without flinching. Because I'm a crier and a talker. That's how I process. But this incident left me with a good feeling that I am listened to, I am valued as a person and a patient, and that I can put my trust in my medical team. And that's Plan A+.