The right pit got treated just in time for Hotel Megan's grand opening!

Everyone stresses I "take care of myself," so today I took that to mean: 

shaving my right pit *and* wearing deodorant on it (I think the general population is thanking 

me for that one!), a run/walk, and a root beer float! (14/30)

Celebrating being halfway done! 

It feels so great and so daunting all at the same time. (15/30)

A relaxing Sunday afternoon with the guests of Hotel Megan

The guests of Hotel Megan got a 

(hopefully) once in a lifetime behind the scenes tour! (16/30)

Best guests ever - they cooked, cleaned, drove me to appointments, 

and prepped me for my interview! Plus Ezra got a man crush on 

"super buff glasses guy/Chris Pratt as Clark Kent" (Ezra's names for Matt). (17/30) 

My copper cutout reveal party. AKA prep work for my "boost" 

(which is still a week and a half away). I wonder if it's safe to keep and hang as "art" later? (18/30)

LUVUMEG Hey! Thanks! That's nice of you to say!

Cheers to successfully completing two weeks 

*and* finally trying "strong drinks" at Knight's! (10/30)

Oddly enough, it was only the right pit that 

needed the midday freshen up. (11/30) 

● I think I'll rest here x2 

● Matching helmets like it's our job 

● Round hole in a pink square peg; a drawing, per my mom's request (12/30)

As seen on the way to today's appointment - I usually go by Mugs, 

but I suppose I'll take Meg (13/30)

You look like (a smellier version of) Darlene from Rosanne

The feet of *non* radiation patients

Tuesday: The machine was 40 minutes behind schedule! The annoying thing about when they're running late is you have to wait alone.  If someone joins you at your appointment they aren't allowed to go beyond the doors to the secret lair.  Yet!  There were two others in my waiting room that were NOT radiation patients.  I am still trying to figure out how they got in there!  Daric was waiting in the approved waiting room and apparently fell asleep during my treatment.  Good for him.

This guy fell asleep while waiting 

and was fascinated by the rock moat that leads the way. (7/30)

Wednesday I got in right on time; I barely knew what to do with myself when they called my name at 4:59 PM!  I have a large zit on my chest, though, which I blame on radiation therapy.  It's the strangest thing, I don't usually get large zits on my chest (or anywhere...knock on wood) and this thing aligns perfectly with my tattoo and sticker.  Upon hopping up on the table I warned the therapists to not get distracted by my zit, as it was *not* one of their markers.  "Ah, no worries, we're trained tattoo finders," they informed me.  This conversation led into one about how I looked like Darlene from Rosanne (did she have a large zit on her chest as well?) and had I heard this before?  Ah, yes, unfortunately it's not my first rodeo with this reference.  Back when I was in AmeriCorps there was a Facebook Group "We all have a friend that looks like Darlene" (or something to that effect).  Furthermore, last month I was stopped by a woman in a waiting room.  She thought we knew each other and insisted upon it until she finally realized she thought I looked like the lady on The Talk.  I'm still mulling over my feelings about the reference...        

Not being allowed to shave or wear deodorant makes for 

an interesting run in 85° weather 

#heclearlyhasnotyetsmelledme

#heprobablysmellstoo

#thehugissupposedtocovermychestzit (8/30)

Thank you, Sir, for letting all of us listen 

to your voicemails while in the waiting room. (9/30) 

Your next radiation therapy model, right here, joining cancer support groups

Week 2 was off to an interesting start.  Monday I hopped up on the table, they got me all situated, and then the "hush hush" talk began.  Did they see something I didn't?  Were they whispering about how my cancer had come back and they weren't sure how to break the news?  There were three people in the room, then two disappeared, and one stayed back to keep me company.  She's a young Radiation Therapist, very nice.  Eventually she explained that the machine was broken - I could move side to side and forward and backward, but it wouldn't go down.  So, there I was on the table suspended 4 feet up in the air with nothing but time and thoughts.  After asking what all the numbers on the computers meant we were still left waiting.  

"Are we allowed to take pictures in here?" I asked.  And, with that, a photo-shoot ensued.  We put on my googles and mouthpiece and did a mock simulation of my treatments.  The photos are clearly amazing; I could basically be the star in a demonstration video of Radiation Therapy.  Not before too long we were interrupted by the physicist who was called in to examine the machine.  (Yes, I did tell them they were raining on my modeling career parade and interrupted us during my photo shoot!)  While they worked, I continued taking photos of my surroundings.  Long story short, the machine was broken, they had to manually crank me down, and I had to switch to another machine. 

That night, due to the fact I am considered a "Young Adult with Cancer," I figured I would give the support group of the same name a try.  I called ahead to check on the deets and was told family was invited to the meetings.  Knowing this, I *wasn't* going to go alone.  Both Matt and Lisa were able and willing to go.  Slowly the support group members started trickling in - all cancer (and former cancer) patients.  No fellow support systems.  Whoops.  But!  They told me on the phone all were welcome!  Nonetheless everyone was beyond nice and welcoming.  I safely left my phone charging in the corner and, thankfully, the whole scenario didn't go down like the little old lady in Dumb and Dumber (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ppSUnOB4DZw).  No fears, young adults with cancer were *indeed* genuinely nice people.

Week 2 is off to an interesting start:

1. Bed got stuck with me on it

2. Physicist was called in to fix bed

3. Bed was manually cranked down

4. Switched to new bed/room

4. Was the only one that brought support to the support group...

(6/30) 

 

High five for day five!

Week one is officially complete!  Part of what got me through this week was knowing my longest friend (33 years and counting!) was coming to town, and she certainly didn't disappoint.  We spent the weekend taking care of ourselves, staycation style, in a hotel.  Not only did we enjoy a decadent dinner, complete with a bottle of wine, we enjoyed relaxing on the river.  The time went by waay too fast though.  It's amazing how quickly the switch is flipped and I can go from relaxation to worrying about what lies ahead.   

In other news, it appears I may or may not have tact when talking to people.  In general, I have a tendency to talk to random people.  These days, given the proper scenario, I can have word vomit and talk nonchalantly about having cancer.  Watching people's reactions is quite interesting, almost a sociological study of sorts.  Turns out people don't really know how to react.  After my appointment, Annie and I stopped in the Cancer Center for a quick snack from the vending machines.  We had been hanging out, laughing and eating, for a good 15 minutes when along came a middle aged woman.  "Is it okay if I use the machine?" she asked.  "Of course," I responded.  "We're just hanging out here, really."  "Aren't you a little young to be hanging out next to the vending machines?"  "Ah, well we are old souls.  Plus, technically I have cancer of the old ladies.  So really I'm about 70 years old, I just look really good for my age."  Crickets... The woman retrieved her vending machine snack, gave me an awkward head nod and smile, and fled the scene of the crime.        

A high 5 for completing 5 days. A high 5 for only 5 weeks left. 

And an enormous high 5 for my longest friend being in town! (5/30) 

My reward after week one!

Day 4 - Dreaming of ringing the bell

Today I received a personal escort from the Cancer Center to Radiation Oncology.  She took me down the back hallways of the hospital and before I knew it we came in the back way to the secret lair.  I really feel like an insider now!  Although, maybe not, because I'm not sure I could reenact the route.  

After changing into my gown for the day, I left the locker room and stopped to admire the Victors Bell.  (At the end of treatment there is a bell patients ring)  So, there I was dreaming about my time to ring the bell when a nurse walked by, "Do you get to ring that bell today?"  "HA!  I wish! I am just getting started!  I am on day four.  Five more weeks to go!"  I looked up and there were my Radiation Therapists in the hall waiting for me.  "And it looks like I am getting started with day four right now!  See ya!"

Thursdays are check-in with my oncologist(s) days.  Today I met with 3 doctors - my oncologist, my second oncologist (a resident doctor), and a student doctor.  When asked if it was okay for the student to be there I said, "Sure, why not, everyone wants to get a sneak peek at my boobs!"  Sometimes I'm not sure the doctors know what to do with my sarcasm and jokes.  I do enjoy watching their reactions though.  I like to think I add a little humor and young life to their day.

Since it was my first time in a couple of weeks seeing my oncologists I took the opportunity to express how unimpressed I am with my permanent radiation sticker being off center.  The sticker is just to the right of center.  Now, I realize it aligns perfectly with the tattoo between my boobs, but still!  Neither of them are in the middle of my body!  When I mentioned this was not ideal for patients with OCD tendencies, my oncologist apologized.  To which I responded, "Thanks, but somehow I don't believe you really are sorry..."  She laughed and agreed.  The marks are off center for a purpose - they align my body on the table and treat the area of my body to the left of the marks (I of course already knew this, but still!).

I think I'm slowly learning the ins and outs of the secret lair.
Plus!  Today the bus delivered a special guest. (4/30)

         

Ready, Set, RADIATION! (email)

Happy Thursday!

On Monday I officially started my 30 day journey of radiation treatments.  I go once a day (weekends off!) to Radiation Oncology, drop off my support (friend) of the day in the waiting area and head into my secret lair.  This place is like a well oiled machine!  I type in my last four digits of my social security number into a computer and it tells me which machine I am on that day.  There are 6 possible machines - sadly that means there a lot of us SuperBats out there...  I did catch a glimpse of one of my fellow club member's tattoos in the waiting room, so I knew he was legit - no impostors allowed!

Each of my appointments are scheduled for 25 minutes, but actual treatments are only about 2 minutes.  I lay on a bed (which is set up specifically for my body before I get in the room) and the radiation therapists start moving me - they are very adamant about the fact they move me, I don't move me!  I have three tattoos and one permanent sticker which they use to make sure I align perfectly on the table. With my arms above my head, snorkel machine in my mouth, a nose plug, and goggles displaying my breathing pattern, we begin.  The therapists leave the room, the radiation machine rotates around me, and my breathing pattern is measured (exhales on the grey line).  Once my breathing is stable a yellow line appears above the grey line, I inhale through my mouth until I reach the yellow line, at which point I am "in the zone" (it still gets me every time they say that, "She's in the zone!").  Once I am in the zone, I hold my breath, which is when the actual radiation is administered.  I get two shots from the top right and two shots from the bottom left.  And that is that, for the day.  Same thing.  Every day.  For 30 days.     

       

In other news, after much thought I've finally decided upon a name for Leftie's unexpected pregnancy.  Due to the fact the tumor is commonly called "cancer of the older women" I found it only fitting to name the tumor an old-fashioned name - Gertrude (Gertie for short).  So, there's that.    

Also, I decided I wanted to document this journey, via a photo a day.  If you are interested in following, I'll be posting my photos on Instagram, as well as on my blog: http://justanotherlumpintheroad.blogspot.com/  

Hope to see you soon!

Later  Gators!

So long, 7 o'clock alarm!

As it turns out, Gertie (my tumor) tested positive for Estrogen (99%) and Progesterone (85%).  That being said, I was no longer allowed to feed my tumor through taking my 7pm daily dose of birth control.  How will I ever know what time it is?   My life had revolved around this 7 o'clock alarm for so long, it's crazy to imagine life without it!  How would my friends know what time it is?!  They had also relied on my steady alarm.  Ah well, the things you do when you have to tend to your (former) tumor...  I went off the pill and switched to a non-hormonal contraception, the Copper IUD.

Now, perhaps this is too much information for you, but I have come to the conclusion that I don't care.  These are all stories that make up the craziness that comes along with cancer and therefore it is important for me to remember.  I wasn't looking forward to this experience, I had heard horror stories of IUDs.  My horror story kind of goes along with those of others, except the main downfall is I had to wait in the room for 2 hours.  I kid you not!  My appointment was for 10:10am and I did not see a doctor until 12pm!  I kept myself busy by sending unsolicited photos to family and friends - both photos of me and photos of the medical tools which I was so lucky to stare at and wonder how they were going to hurt me.

When the doctors finally came into room I quickly realized the doctor doing the procedure was a rookie!  They claimed this was not her first rodeo, however with the amount of questions she was asking and how long the 5 minute procedure took, I have my doubts.  Luckily it was a once and done deal, I hope to never go through that again!  

New Earrings?

Hello?  Anyone in there?

Two hours to stare at my fate.

  

The start of a photographic journey

And so it begins, I started radiation therapy on Monday.  For my own memories, I have decided to take a photo each day of treatment.  Starting with preparation before radiation, leading up to the start, below are a few photos documenting my journey these past five days.

"One size fits elephant. One size fits elephant," the doctor kept saying.  Yes, my feet are under there, and no my legs aren't that wide on top!

Casual Friday afternoon reading

Before and after. Fear of the unknown to a temporary state of relaxation. (1/30) #hotblanketsforlegsfordays

A little waiting room hide-and-go-seek with the 

hot blankets never hurt anyone. I won. (2/30)

Per my client's request, I drank a Boost on the way. 

"You need the nutrients, Megan. 

We need you to be a brand new baby girl." (3/30)

Cancer Roulette (I'm not crazy, cancer is crazy)

The thing with having cancer is - it takes over your life.  Whether you like it or not, it's not something you can control.  Phone calls, emails, appointments, they leave little room for anything else.  Even more so, it keeps you on your toes.  Years ago there was no such thing as caller ID.  When the phone rang there was a brief moment of utter excitement of not knowing who was on the other line.  That's essentially what it is like for me now, minus the excitement.  The entire UofM health system uses one outgoing number forcing me to brace myself every time I see the number 232-0000 on my phone.  Some days I have been so lucky as to receive upwards of 5 separate calls from this number!  (Please keep your jealous tendencies to yourself, unfortunately we can't all be so lucky ;)  

Every day I play a new round of Cancer Roulette - what will the portal tell me today?  Who is on the other line today?  I just looked up "Russian Roulette" and it says, "an activity that is potentially very dangerous."  Yup, that sounds about right!  The emotions that come with each portal check or phone call can indeed be very dangerous to one's mental health! Will it be my test results that will change my life forever?  Will a dream be shattered?  Will it be a social worker (it appears I'm collecting them)?  Or a nurse?  Or my surgeon?  Or a bill?  Or an appointment reminder?  There is virtually no way to possibly prepare myself for each round of Cancer Roulette.  Luckily the calls have temporarily subsided, but not yet completely stopped.  Radiation is only starting, so I imagine I'll continue dealing with things for a while yet...         

My Cancer Bag - Complete with my own personal health organizer from the American Cancer Society!  The bag is rapidly becoming part of my daily workout regiment, it constitutes as my weight lifting each day!

Envelopes inside of envelopes.  The excitement never ends!

The "joys" of a radioactive "sunburn"

The summer before my sophomore year of high school, there was one fateful day where I spent far too much time in the hot sun.  It was by far the worst bout of sunburn I have ever experienced.  I have vivid memories of going to work wearing my swimsuit under my clothes, because anything touching my skin was pure torture (yes, I did get seriously make fun of for this).  I learned my lesson and have since tried to remember to wear sunscreen at all times.  Although, now that I mention it, wearing sunscreen on a mole on my chest also caused issues of its own kind - helpful advice for the day - don't wear SPF 50 on one mole and nowhere else on your body, it will make for a permanent white spot.  Whoops.

I mention this cautionary tale of my fried body because this is the sensation I felt post surgery.  For a week after the surgery my armpit and upper arm were numb to the world, until one week later, BAM!  "Are you trying to sleep, Megan?  Sorry, we're not sorry!  We're going to go from being numb to taking you back to that terrible sunburn!"  Slowly but surely the nerve endings were coming back to life.  (The surgeon had stretched a nerve to get to the sentinel lymph nodes)  Part of me was excited, for every time I tried to put on deodorant or touch my armpit my whole body would cringe because my brain couldn't handle the fact this area was numb to the world.  I so wanted that sensation to be over!  However... the other part of me hated the sunburn feeling more than anything and was seriously considering wanting the numbness back.  Even the slightest touch to the arm could cause excruciating pain.  To this day, I am still struggling with both.  Both have slowly subsided, but both are still ever so present.      

Given the numbness of the left armpit I thought it best not to risk shaving that pit.  That meant, for perhaps the first time in my life, I was okay with something on my body not being even.  Uh oh, as I write this I am becoming increasingly more aware of the fact my left pit is hairy and my right is not... Luckily I can't lift my left arm up with ease yet, so I'm telling myself it is for the best, being uneven.