Monday AM, 24 July, 2006 (did that date for the British Empire <g>)

I picked up my wax stent from the oncological dentist, a lovely, lovely
gentleman who had two visiting doctors in the office and asked me to
briefly relate my story. When I was done he turned to them and said:
"see how well educated our patients are"  I was proud for him.

He had to make a few adjustments with an alcohol lamp, but he stood me
before the mirror and showed me how to insert it and how to remove it.

Next stop (after the usual interminable wait) was the simulation.
Mask-making time.  I was a good girl and took my Atavan 1 hour before
the appointment. It worked.  The first thing was a head shot photograph
taken by the technician. I  smiled shyly so my missing teeth wouldn't show.

They displayed some  material that looked like the netting they put over
thanksgiving turkies in the supermarket, but it was stiff with a
plaster-like material and had rigid metal edges. It reminded me of those
head and chest targets they use at the police shooting ranges, except
these already had lots of v-shaped holes. <g>

I had to strip to the waist and take off my shoes. I got to use one of
the always-fashionable gowns as a privacy drape.  They put soft
bracelets on my wrists that are attached to cords which attach to a foot
board. When they properly adjust the foot board and the patient places
the bracelets on their wrists, it drops their shoulders to a place that
is out of the way of their field of work. The same process was used on
my CT a few days earlier.

I wanted to show off how well I could do with my new stent and they were
all afraid it wouldn't fit, but I'd been well trained by lovely
Onco-dent and I amazed them.

Back to the mask. One technician marked my face with ink dots. They
pushed and pulled me gently to and fro to get my head in exactly the
right position. Nothing hurt and everyone was kind and reassuring.

They took a few exrays.

The warned me that the mask material would be hot. It wasn't. It was
just a little warm. If the room had not been 20 degrees below zero, it
might have been hot.  Lots of pushing, poking,  smoothing, getting this
thing into place as it gradually hardened. I believe someone helped it a
bit with a dry cloth. Mostly I lay in Atavan-land and didn't care very
much. As the thing began to dry it got tighter. Breathed deeply through
my stented mouth. A few times I felt pressure on my windpipe and thought
I'd loose my cool but by the time I tried to figure out how to get my
hand out of the bracelet to raise it in the manner requested, I felt
better.  They took some more pictures. There were two brief panics. Not
bad for such a claustrophobe. I can either keep my eyes open or close
them with the mask on. I just know that my wonderful and caring
technicians and doctors and my good friend Atavan will help me get
through the treatments.

The mask was done. I now have stripes painted on my torso which are
protected with non-alergenic tape. They will help the techs position me
for the radiation therapy. I have to be careful not to wash them off. I
also can't get a hair cut until this is over or the mask might not fit
right.

I got to see my mask as they were finishing it up and received
permission to come and adorn it with a red ribbon tomorrow when we
return for our patient meeting and radiation planning meeting. Red
ribbons keep away the evil spirits. Everyone knows that!

I had to give back the wax stent to the onco-dent so that he can make a
permanent plastic one for me. It's not at all uncomfortable but it looks
really silly. He's making me flouride trays and when I get my radiation
schedule, I have to give them a copy so that they can monitor my teeth
through the process. He said we'll be seeing a lot of eachother.

Got some more side effect lectures and a paper from the RO's Fellow, the
nice young gal I met at Clinic. They I saw the RO's other nurse, Gary.
Wow! Dennis, the one I'd been dealing with was on vacation. Dennis is
nice but his English isn't always that good

Tomorrow I will be meeting the rest of my team who are going to be
caring for me. There will be the speech people, the nutritionists, the
social workers, and all kinds of helpful beings who want to get me
through this ordeal with the least possible side effects.

They will be radiating my tongue and the left side of my neck looking to
kill off any rogue microscopic cancer cells. Everyone assures me that
the radiation, even with the side effects is better than the chance of
cancer coming back.

I will have to eat well and stay hydrated. The blender is working hard.
It pureed a very nice thick soup made with beans and barley, meat,
carrots, celery, onions and a couple of wandering zuccini I found in the
fridge. It heats well in the microwave and tastes good. Has a lot of
protien. They want me to have lots of protien. Blender will be working
hard. I'm learning  new ways to chew teeny pits of food without loosing
it somewhere my tongue can't find it. Lots of water with meals helps.

We will probably start the treatments in the middle of next week. There
seems to be alot of planning to do between simulation and therapy.

Just wanted to share with you all that I've made it through the
maskerade party that I was so terrified of.  I'm trying to keep my
spirits up despite the horrible people in the billing department whose
vile treatment I won't even discuss. The medical staff is wonderful. I'm
happy to be able to be treated where there are so many caring people and
all the latest and best technology.

I also have to tell Steph that he was right. I did fine with the masking.

Hugs to all of you and know that I am carrying all of you in my thoughts
and prayers.

Who was that masked women? Why don't you know? That was the Radiation
Ranger!

Janet