X marks the spot

big surprise; radiation therapy totally sucks! since my dad started going three weeks ago he hasn't encouraged any of us go with. mom went once at the start to check it out, but since then he's mainly gone alone. i didn't even know he was actually already in radiation until almost a week into it, he was so secret. i've been wanting to go with him for a while, but didn't want to push the issue too hard. he was okay doing chemo by himself and i think he doesn't like the idea of losing his independence. more than that i think he hates the idea of any of us driving his car. the man loves his car. doing it on his own also means he gets to leave when he wants, and it maintains the status quo. i mean, he can't really be sick is he can take himself to treatment, right?

he's gotten so weak and miserable the past week, though, that he finally admitted he'd at least like the company. the drive up to the cancer center is over an hour long and he does a lot of waiting around once he gets there. after he checks in (via a neat little bar code on a card; it automatically fills in his info and puts him in line), he gets his glass of ice water in the infusion treatment ward where people are getting their chemo, and settles into another waiting room in the radiation wing. he gets a pill when he gets there, then waits another half an hour for a shot, then waits a half hour more before they can actually radiate him. "radiate" is a sort of misleading term, however. dad doesn't get dosed with actual radiation (i.e. plutonium) he gets bombarded with serious x-rays. the nurses brought me back to show me the room they do it, and i got to watch the whole thing. first they arrange him on a table and affix a custom made mesh mask to his face and neck. the mask is marked with the area for treatment as well as various plotting points. then he has a board that they place at the soles of his feet; through the board are two long ropes with shearling covered cuffs. when dad pushes his feet on the board with the cuffs around his wrists it gently pulls his shoulders downward and out of the way of the radiation. he doesn't wear a gown or anything, he just sheds his shirt and takes his boots off. then they calibrate the ray a few different ways, use the x-ray to make sure they're in the right area, then start the radiation. they aim for three different parts in the same area, covering the area of the actual cancer as well as a bit outside that to make sure they get any hiding or stray cells. on two screens are black and white video feeds of dad on the table, and on the computer is the actual x-ray image of his skull and spine, with spots highlighted showing the location of the ray. while the treatment itself is time-consuming, uncomfortable and boring, it's the after effects that are really making pop unhappy.

because they aim the radiation at where his lymph node used to be he's got a what looks and feels like a sunburn on his neck, as well as a wicked sore throat and mouth. he's lost his sense of taste and his mouth is basically one giant raw sore. eating anything too hot or cold bothers him, he's sensitive to acids and spice, yet everything tastes like sawdust to him. he's lost his appetite and quite a few pounds. we try to make him drink protein shakes and ensure, but he balks at that even. he's tired and uncomfortable and just isn't interested in eating. he's also had to give up coffee, and if you know my dad at all you know that's not cool. the man drinks a few pots a day, goes through a five pound can coffee in a little over a week. his saliva production is also down, so he has to use a nasty tasting rinse to make sure his ph doesn't get too high and the acid from the bacteria naturally in the mouth doesn't rot his teeth away. the doctor prescribed what amounts to medical marijuana (it's a liquid derivative with no high, damn) to try to stimulate his appetite. in order to get through the next few weeks of treatment he has to stay as healthy as possible because if he misses more than one day he has to start the process all over. trust me, he doesn't want to do that.

it was hard to see him strapped to that bed with the face mask. harder to see how skinny he's getting. walking through the infusion treatment ward was awful as well. everyone at the clinic was very brisk and cheerful and the whole thing felt like "business as usual" but at the same time there were all these skinny bald people hooked up to iv's. some were obviously sicker than others, and the ones that were all alone killed me. i know cancer treatment has gotten much better over the years, and that when dad did chemo he did most of it alone because he wanted to. if i were sick i have no doubt i'd feel the same way. and it is better for the atmosphere to be one of perky efficiency rather than sad melancholy, but it was still difficult to see and take in. i know my dad is sick, and not with something he'll sleep off, but seeing it won't ever be comfortable for me. to put it simply, i don't like it. regardless of how promising his prognosis is there's still a good chance that he'll just get sicker. his chances of coming down with luekemia in the next ten years after all this are also much, much higher. we talked about that the other day. i promised him that if he's diagnosed with cancer again and he doesn't want to do this i'll buy cartons of smokes and kegs of beer and we'll just have fun until he goes. he's not doing this as much for himself as he is for my mother, sister, niece and i. this is as much about the women in his life as it is him getting better. he's sacrificed lymph nodes, his taste buds, his hair and his general sense of well-being so we'll have a dad/husband/grandpa longer.

tagging along to radiation and making endless glasses of ice water and pots of soup is the least i can do to thank him.