We flew back to Boston on Sunday, landing around 4:30pm. This was our 3rd trip there in 5 or 6 weeks so by now it has become routine. In a way, I was feeling a little relieved because I felt like this is the last hurdle of treatment. Hopefully, of course. We have made each of our stays in Boston feel like a vacation as much as possible, and he too was looking forward to returning. We arrived to our apartment around 5:30, and Whole Foods had already delivered us our order through an app Noah found called Insta Cart. He was so proud. He ordered all of his favorites; smoked salmon, avocado, cream cheese, bagels, and there it was at our door waiting. We put our things away, and headed up Charles Street in Beacon Hill for some dinner. He ordered his new favorite, pasta with tomato sauce with a fillet of grilled salmon. And to start, buratta. He savored every bite, and I must admit, it is so fun watching him enjoy the food so much.
Our appointment was scheduled for 11 am the next day, and we had had a long day, so we went to bed early, and got ready in the morning for the first treatment. But, as we have learned the hard way, life is not perfect, and there are always glitches. One thing that cancer has taught us is that you cannot plan for anything and must role with the punches. We got a call around 9am; the software for the radiation machines were malfunctioning, there would be no radiation today. I think he felt kind of let down in a way. He was mentally prepared to start. We made the best of it, and toured more of Boston. We went to Quincy Market and Fanueil hall and just sort of roamed the streets. The weather was perfect, and we just enjoyed the day together.
Today, he was scheduled for a 7am start. That time wasn't as convenient for us because it meant getting up early, and getting him the medications he needed, but it was fine. He woke up around 6:20, and I gave him zofran which should control any nausea that he may have, and an ativan which should help him stay calm. I figured if we can get him through the first week, then we can drop the ativan next week.
We arrived on time, and I thought he was psychologically ready for this. He seemed calm, cool, and collected for the most part. Then, his name was called. He jumped out of his chair as if a loud bang dropped beneath him. I realized then how anxious he was. They asked him to put on a gown, he asked why. "Uh oh," I thought to myself, what is coming next with him. He got the gown on, and we entered the room, which he had already seen once. The questions started. "Which table?" Why is it white, not black?" "Can he change the lights?" Let the stalling begin. I have learned by now not to get involved and let the techs and professionals handle this. Thats what they do all day long. They were extremely patient with him, and got him onto the table. Thats when the tears started. Another thing i have learned is not to talk to him and ask whats happening...the best way to handle these situations is just to sit by him, hold his arm or leg and wait out the tears. He would finish crying about something, and then say ok, he was ready for the next step. All in all, it would take 45 min just to get him situated. I am sure the techs were thinking this would really push them back and make them late the entire day, but they didn't say or do anything different. Just helped him through it.
Eventually the mask was on, he was attached to the table, and they were ready to begin. I left the room, and waited. The whole thing took about an hour. When he came out, he broke out into tears of happiness. It was over. He can do it. 1 down, 29 to go. There was an art therapist waiting for him to make a duct tape wallet. It couldn't have been better. Tomorrow will be better!!
Iron Man came to visit the apartment where we are staying.
Red Sox Game
No comments:
Post a Comment