random points before the scan

I may not have stated this clearly: I do not *want* to have a terminal and aggressive form of brain cancer! Given no choice, I accept.

I could use standard phrasing and say, I wish I did not have this cancer... but that is not true. I do not *wish* that I did not have cancer. That would imply a belief in wishing as a potential cure.

I am happy to see positive thinking... "a good attitude"... as a way to minimise the impact of cancer. I don't believe that I can "wish away" the cancer. I certainly won't destroy my enjoyment of life by following scams which offer miracle cures.

I accept that I do have cancer. I am being treated to minimise the impact of that cancer. I hope to enjoy life for as long as I can. No matter how much I am enjoying my life -- I do not *want* to have cancer. I just accept that I do have it.

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Wednesday night: I go to bed early. Well, 10:30pm which is early for me. Fatigue as a side-effect? Definitely! Not physical exhaustion though, just mental: I would like to sleep, I can't settle to doing much else. I spend an hour watching tv... which I count as, doing nothing much.

Wake up -- as usual -- every hour to an hour-and-a-half. One waking thought is interesting:

I've spent the afternoon and evening feeling very tired. Unable to settle to doing anything. Yet -- when there is anything to be done -- I am not falling asleep. Just lacking the enthusiasm to do things... Perhaps I am tired -- and too bored to act? Tired... can't be bothered starting something... stop... feel bored because I've stopped... feel tired because I'm doing nothing.

It's a thought :-)

In practice: I've decided that -- having woken up just after 4am -- I may as well get up. While I'm awake and feeling fresh... feeling reasonably fresh. Will this mean that I am even more tired today? Doesn't matter.

It will mean that I have an extra hour or so this morning to "do things". I'll see what I do...

My 4am waking is interesting...

There are various ways that I wake up... that I wake myself up. There's the alarm. And there are various body & mind things that cause me to wake up.

My bladder is the obvious one. It gets full, I wake up. As the weather warms up -- and my body absorbs more water for use than for waste -- the bladder is less effective. It's full enough that I want to go to the toilet but not so full that I absolutely *must* wake up and go. So my mind adds dreams. I dream of things which either distract my bladder or which force me awake.

This morning I wake up from a dream about sex.

That's the best type of dream :-) For bladder distraction, I mean... :-) (For those who are not following me... women, presumably: Sex leads to erection which automatically cuts off flow from the bladder.) So I'm dreaming about sex... so that there is no "threat" from my bladder.

Why is this worth a mention? Because it is so rare!

Age is tough. Some pleasures are left behind. Dreams of sex are few and far between. Stress and exhaustion reduce the ability to have sex -- and reduce the frequency of dreams which involve sex. Don't get me wrong: the interest is there... but the practical ability is going... going...

Over the last five or more years I have had very few dreams which involve sex. The few that I have had, I associate with good times, less stress, feeling particularly well.

So this morning's dream is -- to me -- a good sign :-)

No, not a sign of a miracle cure. Not a sign that I am somehow getting better. Definitely not a sign that I really do want to have cancer! Just a sign that I am feeling, not too bad. Not too worried. Coping, perhaps... Perhaps that's why I decide to get up and blog, rather than just sleep a bit longer...

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Now that I'm blogging... Wednesday was quite busy:

I'm now committed to adding abdominal radiation to brain radiation treatment. Wednesday, I'm scanned to see where the radiation needs to focus.

We start with a blood test. When I say "we" I mean, Deb and I. Deb is not working today so she drives, stays, waits while I get the various treatments. Though when I say "we" I also mean that *I* start the day with a blood test. This is the weekly, How's your white cell count, blood test. The one with presumably satisfactory results because I don't hear about the results.

Deb has time for a cup of coffee as we stroll back to the clinic for my scan. Deb says, Time for your scan. I may have been dozing while waiting... Yes, I can relax in a clinic waiting room.

The standard brain zap. Then to another machine -- a CAT scanner? -- to be measured for the extended zapping.

The brain zap is very focused. My head is held still by a "mask", a specially-fitted head wrap which is bolted down to the scanner table.

The abdominal zap will cover all my spine and all my gut. I will have to lie very still. To be sure that I lie still and in the correct position, there will be tattoos on my torso. When the tattoos are aligned with the zap-machine, my body will be aligned for zapping.

There are three nurses? technicians? people running the CAT scan. Mature woman, younger woman, young man. Off with my shirt. Drop my pants. Lie here please... It would be quite fun, if it were not so professional... Well, okay, it's quite fun. But it is also very professional.

I expected that this scan would not want lumps of cloth and metal in the way. So I am dressed in easy-on easy-off shirt (my usual, anyway). No watch, nothing in my pockets. No belt. Now my shirt is off and my pants are lowered to around mid-hip... embarrassing in public but barely exposed.

I lie on a flat -- and narrow -- table in the scanner. Arms above my head, holding a grip. I am pushed a bit sideways. Shifted just a bit to match... whatever. Everyone is happy. The scanner... scans.

The table slides me in and out of the machine. It's like a short tunnel. One narrow part spins... I am moved in and out... spinning stops... scan is done. I still stay still.

My body -- the abdomen? torso? has been scanned. This will show where I'm cancerous, where I will be zapped. The final step is to make sure that future zapping matches today's scan.

I am given three tattoos.

Later, Deb needs convincing: Yes, real tattoos... Permanent. As far as I know. They provide three fixed points on my body, for the zapper to line up where it will zap.

Each tattoo is a small dot, a single poke of a loaded tattoo needle. Just a pin-prick... enough to convince me that I will never commit to full tattoo art. A quick look now -- and I can't see a dot. It's very small. I may look later. The nurse assures me that, Yes, *they* can see each dot.

One dot on the sternum. One on each side at the base of my ribs. Three points to align future abdominal zapping. And I'm done for today.

Stand up... after ten or twenty minutes of being scanned. Not too uncomfortable. My hands -- above my head -- have started to go to sleep. I stand slowly, a little bit dizzy but that is my usual OTTWoW (covered in an earlier post.)

Pull up my pants. Shirt on. Out... the door is locked. So you don't run away, says the nurse :-) To protect privacy, I suspect.

And... done.

This week, two more days of brain zapping. Next week -- if everyone has finished analysis of today's scan -- I will be doing double daily scanning. Which means -- I believe: I will lie down, have my head bolted to the table, have my brain zapped. Then I will stand up, shift around, probably take off my shirt & drop my pants. Lie very still and have my lower body zapped.

But that... is next week. If all goes according to plan.

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Meanwhile, the advantage of Deb waiting for me: Deb has paid this week's bill. It's a fair amount though a lot will come back from Medicare.

Total cost will be ... we were told but I forget ... say, about $6,000 cost to us. Hmmm... probably as much again for the testicular cancer zapping. Oh well. We're lucky, we can afford it. Though it's definitely not chicken feed.

I am an out-patient, not based in hospital. So nothing is covered by our private health insurance. The Medicare "safety net" is about to kick in, so total cost -- to us -- will be limited. When I look at the total cost -- if Medicare did not exist -- it is horrendous... Perhaps we could afford it? Perhaps we would be selling the house.

But we do have Medicare! All those years of paying taxes -- well worth it after all :-)

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The rest of the morning is spent driving. Deb driving. We pick up mangoes from near the airport, an annual gift from my brother. We deliver some to my other brother, he's not in but we catch up with his wife. Tomorrow (now today) we deliver to another branch of the family.

I navigate. When Deb reaches more familiar roads, I spend more time snoozing. At home -- after a late lunch -- I sleep some more.

Then eat... and snooze... and do nothing much... and sleep. And that, was Wednesday.

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Dr Nick Lethbridge / Consulting Dexitroboper
Agamedes Consulting / Problems ? Solved
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​"No one said they wanted faster horses, they wanted less horseshit." … no, not said by Henry Ford

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Now much more than a clever name for a holiday journal:

 https://notdotdeaddotyet.blogspot.com.au/  :-)