Good morning and Happy New Year!💥

Here’s the report on my recent brain radiation that I did at Thanksgiving — 

When I first met with the radiation oncology team in, I smiled and told them that this brain radiation was going to be no problem for me. I mentioned that I had done high dose radiation before (on my lung) and I knew this would only take about 5 minutes under the mask for them to treat my brain tumor. Imagine my surprise when they told me during that visit that they do things differently in the brain. Face to palm. Where do they serve the humble pie?! I closed my mouth and let them explain.

Because my brain was the body part being treated with radiation this time, I had to wear a very tight fitting mask that forced me to keep my head totally still. This mask was…intimidating. Both physically and mentally. Once my head was in the mask (there was a front and back) the mask was clamped down to the table, so there was pressure, pushing on my face, holding it perfectly in place. Talk about intense!  

Beyond the tight-fitting mask, another reason this brain radiation threw me for a loop was that the treatment was longer than I had anticipated. I was to be under the mask for one hour on treatment day, and for about 45 mins on the day we made the mask. The reason for the longer time under the mask was that a second brain tumor was found when we did a fine, more detailed MRI scan. Darn it! I didn’t want there to be more than one tumor☹️.  My brain team is so competent and reassured me that the second tumor was no biggie. The brain surgeon said they can treat eight of these tumors at once if they need to! Finding the second tumor extended my treatment time from what would have been about 30 -40 minutes under the mask to 1 hour. That extra time felt like a belly punch.

The mask itself was made of a green pliable plastic. Before I did my radiation I went to the hospital to have my mask made. The day of my mask simulation, I met two awesome women who helped me feel more comfortable while they fit me for the radiation mask. The mask started out as several individual pieces of plastic laid out on a table. The ladies took one piece of the mask at a time and warmed it in hot water. Then they laid pieces of plastic on my face and pressed them around my features, molding them to my nose, eyes and chin as the plastic cooled down. A tiny piece was molded between my teeth and a large piece was pressed around the back of my head. There was a final large piece that had holes throughout that was laid over the plastic pieces that were already in place. There was some weight to this large piece and I felt like a giant green sheet of Laffy Taffy candy was being stretched over my whole face. It took some mental work to stay calm and breathe slowly while staying still as the mask hardened over the next 20 minutes. After I finished the simulation and the women removed the mask, I sat up and felt ice cold fear knowing that in a week I’d be back for the real radiation! Eek!   

On the morning of the radiation I was able to take some medication that helped me relax before being bolted down to the table. And the radiation team was so supportive. They played my choice of instrumental music and covered me with warm blankets. They told me every time they came into the room to move my bed around (remember I couldn’t move my head and therefore couldn’t really see anything, I had my eyes closed anyways) and they spoke kind, encouraging words to me. At one point, half way through my treatment, the team came in to undo a giant Velcro strap that had been keeping my arms immobile for the last 30 minutes. As soon as my arms were free my hands reached out for the two women in the room, searching for comfort. They each took hold of a hand, and while I couldn’t speak well due to the mouthpiece between my teeth,  they knew to reassure me, squeezing my hands and telling me that I was going to be able make it through the final 30 minutes. Whew. Brain radiation was a tough one for me. I’ll just end this description by saying that I’m so thankful that this type of focused brain radiation is even possible. It was an incredible experience. In the days that followed my treatment I had a headache, felt tired & a little off. Jokingly I said to Mike, “I can’t see anything different, but I know they did something to me!” It was a bizarre feeling. When we went to see the brain team right before Christmas, they were happy with my post-treatment MRI. Mike and I also saw my lung cancer team right after Christmas and those CT scans look good too. Because now I’ve had what the oncology team calls a “reoccurrence”, I will need to get all my scans every 8 weeks instead of every 12 weeks.  They’re keepin’ an eye on me.❤️

The longer I live (45 next month!) the more I’m trying to make sure my disease doesn’t define me. I’m living a happy, full, bright yellow & multi colored confetti life. Yes, even with stage 4 lung cancer. When I type cancer into my phone, the definition that pops up is “a disease in which abnormal cells divide uncontrollably and destroy body tissue.”  This is a downer. And while I do get weary of my disease, cancer doesn’t dictate how I feel about my life. I love my life. I love that my kids picked out a pom pom garland for me because they know I love whimsy. I love seeing my Mom and Dad work together in my kitchen to make a delicious salad for our family dinner - Dad doing the pomegranate and Mom doing the citrus and greens.  I love hearing my sister and her daughter play a jolly duet on my piano. I love watching my 8 year old cat fluff out his chest and take a nap under the table. Poet Cleo Wade said; “Oftentimes, when the world feels chaotic, we begin to feel as if it is somehow inappropriate to have joy. Have your joy. Joy energizes us to take on even the most difficult circumstances.” I felt joyful before my diagnosis, and I feel joyful now. How nice that that hasn’t changed!😊 

Ok, I’m sending Hugs, Hope & Healing out to you in this new year on the wings of a cheerful robin. Or maybe on the wings of a beautiful cardinal. Or perhaps on the wings of a wise owl.  So many lovely birds to choose from.🕊 I hope + pray that no more little tumors pop up for me in my February 2024 scans. I don’t want to repeat brain radiation for a good, long while. 

Have a hApPy day! Love to all, Molly