The radiation bell

Celebration ensues! I finished radiation therapy this morning bright and early. My sister, Donna, from Indianapolis is visiting and she went with me. So, I had a witness to my grand finale: ringing of the radiation bell. 

The two of us were moved to tears, I will say. It has been a long haul this year. Donna has been right there with me, texting messages during cancer treatments, and listening to me complain over the car phone as I drove home from radiation. 

What I would have done without Donna, I do not know. She was my constant, my go-to person when I was down and discouraged. There would have been lots of quiet time. Her cheerful conversations kept me positive.

Of course, this is not the end of my cancer treatments. I continue with infusions every three weeks until November. But I can handle those. I am on the home stretch now. Fact is, I can see light at the end of this very long tunnel.

On the ride home this morning, unlike any other morning, there were what Donna calls 'angel rays' reaching down from the skies above. They were reaching through the clouds, letting me know very clearly that life is good and the future is bright. Thanks be to God for the direction this healing is going. Like I have said in many earlier posts, I am so blessed.

Tomorrow I celebrate in yet another way. The two Block of the Month Clubs I lead at the Aurora Sewing Center are joining together for a quilt show at the East Aurora store from 10-3. My wonderful quilting ladies are bringing their quilts and quilt tops to show what they have accomplished; I am so proud of them, and pray many folks pop in to applaud their learning efforts. I promise you will be amazed at their fabric choices and quilt designs.

As for me, this is the best way to celebrate. Since I view myself as the quilting cancer girl, this shows everyone how sewing has kept me going across the year. Whenever I did not feel well, I forced myself to sew, focusing on much more than cancer. Not once did I cancel a class because cancer interrupted. For that, I feel totally satisfied and grateful.

So, I close with a photo of my bell ringing this morning. I ask that you join us tomorrow in East Aurora at the Aurora Sewing Center for a chance to see quilting at its finest. Come celebrate with us: quilts, quilting knowledge, the quilting process, patience with this learning, and supportive friendships that are truly magical.

Here is my hair

So this week, I removed my cancer caps. Yup. Cold turkey. Just took off the caps and here I show what hair has grown so far. Is it curly? Nope. Flat as a pancake and colors are mixed white, grey, a little brown. Will be interesting to see what I look like in November when they tell me I will love my hair.

Right now I'm thinking I may end up looking like Claire, my Yorkshire terrier. Kind of a brindle look is okay with me. We'll be a match made in heaven, literally! LOL

So why does one remove their cancer cap? Frankly, I was tired of wearing a hat everyday. In the heat, I was hot and sweaty. And then I wondered if my hairs would grow better if they saw the light of day a little more often. Probably an old wives tale but it made sense to me...like flowers grow better in the sun...and after all, I am once again a budding flower!

What really made me take my cap off my head was listening to my husband in conversation with friends. He said those who survived the concentration camps in Nazi Germany were glad to bare their heads as hair returned because it was symbolic. They were survivors and proud of it, and I should be proud too. Besides, he thinks I am beautiful, and that is enough for me.

To all my cancer friends out there, I will confess that going without my cap makes me feel vulnerable. I am exposed. I am showing you my natural self and my big ears and hoping you don't mind. I also don't want to make you uncomfortable around me. For some reason, I thought the cap would make us all more at ease, but who knows, maybe you seeing naked me is easier, and yes, it's okay to talk about my hair. I welcome it. Want to pet it? Go ahead. It's sooooo soft. Tom pets sit, often in his sleep. LOL

Signing out in good humor, the quilting cancer girl with five days of radiation left!!!

Share your cancer

Today was a little heavy. At 7:30 a.m. I was on the table for radiation. Then at 10:00 a.m. it was a trip to the cancer clinic on Park Club Lane for an infusion that lasted three hours. No more infusions now for three weeks. Six more to go, and then I'm done!!!

My oncologist, Dr. Soniwala, confirmed that radiation does cause nausea. That was a relief  because the radiologist argues how radiation never causes nausea. For me, it's a relief to know that it's not something I'm creating in my head. It really is my stomach. I will tolerate it. Only have this week and next. Then radiation is complete.

I went to the hairdresser today. She actually trimmed my hairs in the back and only charged $10.00. I actually have enough hair to trim, and it felt good to pay that ten bucks! Now I'm almost ready to bare my head and call it a victory even though the nurses tell me I won't like my hair until way next November. My comfort with going public is creeping up on me. Just you wait!

Drove back out to camp this afternoon and was so relaxed, I collapsed into a flat out 'after infusion' sleep. The fatigue I generally feel from the back-to-back radiation/infusion is often overwhelming.  Anyway, tonight we call bingo for our camp friends. Love doing that. They are all such fun.

At this point, I want to acknowledge how glad I am that God moved me to share my cancer with all of you. And my advice to anyone deep in the muck and mire the cancer scare can cause is to talk about what you are feeling with everyone. Really. I shared with my immediate family, work family, students I teach, and camp family.  Afterwards, strangers came forward in person and through text messages to talk with me about their own challenges. Our bonds are comforting. They help us live.

That my camp family knows what I've been managing this year is comforting. My husband and I can call bingo and be as normal as possible. Still, there are hugs and words of encouragement that surround us as we close down for the week and look forward to next week. 

Keeping your cancer a secret doesn't work. Honest. It is a very heavy burden. Having support and prayers from many makes a huge difference in your ability to keep going when it's difficult to get out of bed. To know you can send a text to an understanding cancer friend helps you catch your breath and find strength to move into the next day. So please. No secrets. In fact, let me know what you're dealing with. We can pray together as others have prayed with me. I will be your biggest cheerleader!

Signed optimistically, the quilting cancer girl

The radiation world

When I moan and groan about having to do radiation, I stop and look at my blog. It's been over a week since my last post already! That means only four days of radiation this week and I will have completed two weeks. Halfway through as of this coming Friday! Yippee!!!!!

I have to say that radiation has been kicking my butt. First of all, I drive to Harlem Road from Lancaster every single week day morning by 7:45 a.m. That is draining because I usually get up around 5 a.m. for a bathroom trip and then I'm scared to fall back to sleep for fear I will oversleep. So I lose out on my delicious last hours of dream time those five days each week.

Second, the radiation makes me nauseated. And I hate being nauseated. Tomorrow I intend to tell the doctor in case their are some solutions to that awful feeling. 

The whole business of checking in with the doctor though makes me laugh. Last week, he came into the room, and said, "How are you Mrs. Kisicki?" I answered with, "Well, it's the start of all this radiation. So far I'm okay." Doc came back with, "Great. See you next week," and he left the room. Don't  you wonder how much I will be paying for that 'checking in' time?

Third, radiation technicians and doctors are a whole new kind of animal. They relate to big machines and markers and CT scans and sonograms constantly. They know very little about conversation or giving a human the time of day. It's all about schedule, snapping to it, laying in your given position, and not moving. Then it's, "See you tomorrow," and you're done. 

Meanwhile, I am in awe of the huge machine that rotates around my body. You will see a photo of it here when it is standing still. The techs by the way were very uncomfortable with me using a minute of my  time to snap that photo, but human me did it anyway as I chatted away. I keep trying to let them know that I am caring and kind and interested in this process, and them. No dice.

In defense of one female radiation technician, on my first day, I shared my apprehension about radiation based on past experiences that my grandmother had with cobalt treatments way back in the 1960's. Of course, to me the 1960s feel like yesterday. 

But the tech commented that radiation had come a long way and now it was easier. I said, "Thank you for letting me share," and silly me, I was moved to tears. Very nicely and appropriately, she moved over and hugged me. For that reason, and that reason alone, I relaxed and am accepting the 'joys of radiation' as just another step in my ongoing journey.

I guess I am spoiled from chemotherapy and surgery where the nurses and doctors nurture. They are so positive, encouraging an upbeat attitude in us patients and sharing excitement when healing happens. In many ways, they have raised the bar for caring high. Quite honestly, the folks in radiation could learn a few things, and might even share a summer pleasantry or two. But you know me. I won't give up!!! I've got two more weeks. Hmmm....maybe I will win them over.

Signed, the caring quilting cancer girl