MAY 2004

DYNAMITE WITH A LASER BEAM
(Guaranteed To Blow Your Mind)

When people talk about 'possible cures', somewhere in the conversation the word 'treatment' is going to crop up. And you'd think that because I had said 'no' to the offer of any 'treatment' last time I had been asked, then maybe the word wouldn't crop up - but it does. And the doctors offer exactly the same thing as they had done when I was asked about it in September, so is my answer likely to have changed?........

December '03

Radiotherapy for that battered brain of mine. Laser beams blasted through my brain to try and destroy any 'fast dividing cells' - cancerous cells. To prevent another 'limpet' embedding itself again?!?!

It sounds more appealing than chemotherapy and the side effects are nowhere near as destroying as chemo. I remember when I had radiotherapy after my spinal surgery the year before, I was managing to get to school after each treatment and my body didn't notice anything, apart from being incredibly tired. There
are, however, one or two little catches to the treatment.

It would be six weeks of treatment. This meant travelling into London every day (Monday to Friday) to have the treatment and then to turn around and travel home again. Every day!

The side-effects; tiredness (from treatment and travelling), nausea - maybe sickness, hair loss, burnt skin from the lasers and the list went on. It all sounded manageable to me. It became a case of 'Damned if you do; Damned if you don't!'

When it came to the crunch and we finally met the radiotherapy consultant that I was under - we were told that one more thing had to be done before the treatment started. I had to have a 'mask' made. It's purpose - to keep my head in exactly the same position for every treatment. It was made of a see through plastic and would cover the whole of my head and was almost skin tight.

The making of the mask - I had to lie very still as warm, gluey bandages slowly started to cover the whole of my face (apart from mouth and nostrils). It started to set quickly and as the plaster set over my eyes I started to panic. I was trapped. I couldn't move my head and I was terrified that my mouth was going to be covered - not that it would have mattered, I could hardly breathe I was panicking so violently.

I was being buried alive.

I couldn't hear, see or move. I knew my Mama was sitting close by, but too far from where I was for me to reach her hand. The cast was removed in one fast movement and I could see, hear and breathe again. I thought I had been trapped for an age but it seemed only a few minutes had gone by. I went over to Mama
and sat next to her for some comfort; I saw tears in her eyes. I wanted to cry but my eyes still felt like they had a huge weight on them. Mama hardly every cries, well not in front of me. She's watched me go through some agonising things in the past few years and she's always done it with a brave face.

I asked what it looked like from the outside and she replied "It's the most horrific thing that any of them have ever done to you."

After that I had several more bad experiences with 'The Mask'. When it came to be fitted properly it was so tight it was painful. We tried several times to get the fitting right. I started having doubts about having the treatment. If I had to wear the mask every day during treatment for the next six weeks it had to fit perfectly, no pain, no pressure. I changed my mind several times about taking the treatment in the run up to the start date of the six week course. In the end, after a lot of kicking and screaming, the doctors finally saw how unhappy 'The Mask' was making me. And eventually 'The Mask' was perfected and the treatment started on Tuesday 6th January.

Day after day of fighting our way into London on the train; at first it was breeze. The odd arsey commuter and smokers trying to get away with murder.

And the treatment itself got easier as the days passed. All I needed to do was to lie on a bed in the middle of a large room. 'The Mask' was pulled on and I was bolted into it and bolted onto the table so my head would stay perfectly still. Markings on 'The
Mask' were lined up with lasers that came out of the walls and then I was left on my own in the room and the lasers started to fly. It was over in minutes.

It was a five hour round journey for me and Mama everyday; all for just four minutes or so of the actual treatment. 'The Roastin' & Toastin''.

I had my hair shaved off at the very beginning, I didn't want to go through losing my hair in clumps again. As a Christmas present I had my hair dyed PINK!! By week three of treatment my shaved head had re-grown some hair and then the radiotherapy started
to kick into action and all the re-growth fell out in clumps. So we didn't achieve anything by having my hair shaved off originally!

And of course there was the burnt skin. It started off just like a sun burn on the side and back of my head. Then the lasers started to attack my ears. Within days my ears were so red and burnt that it was painful to rest my head on the pillow at night. I started to sleep practically sitting upright. The pain was just unbearable. And nothing we tried to do to stop it worked.

By the end of the fourth week it felt like we were on the 'home run'. Everything started to look so hopeful.

One day when I was waiting to go in for treatment, Mama and I had a conversation with someone and it reached some very exciting places. We came to a conclusion that when my radiotherapy course had finished, I would then be in exactly the same place as I was when I finished my radiotherapy the first time -

a) the tumours were no longer there

b) one area had been treated with radiotherapy (the other not needing attention because op. was so successful).

c) if anything else was going to happen it would be the next stage of the cancer where the cancer travelled to somewhere new in a more fatal capacity.

We talked about getting back to school and whether I should be thinking about choosing a few GCSE courses incase we were lucky. I left the conversation so confused and unsure of where I was heading.

Only a few months before people had been telling me a month, weeks left and now so suddenly we were discussing my education.

The last day of treatment came closer and I started to wonder what life would be like when I was thrown back into the physical world.

During the treatment I had managed to make a few trips into school to see my friends. But as the treatment went on I went in less and less, both because I was tired and there were certain storms brewing at school and I didn't have the mental energy
to cope with them. The band collapsed around me and I walked away from the falling rubble and was blamed for it. I really missed my friends! I used to spend so much time with them and I felt like I was locked away from them. They always came up trumps though!

On my last treatment one of my best friends held my hand and came along with me. She was keen to come and see what they had been doing to me for the last six weeks. I was so happy - my friends had always shied away from my treatment - but they're always there when I come out the other side.

We celebrated my 'freedom' that evening in the best way possible!! We Will Rock You!! I was shattered, my ears were burning and I was probably clapping completely out of time to the music - but it was really something special.

And so then I found myself back in 'remission' - just waiting for the next tragedy to happen. Waiting, hoping, waiting and wishing that maybe that would be 'The End'.

Vicki

Written: March 2004