Head Games

Here's the thing no one tells you about getting radiation zapped into your head: when you're done your face looks like you fell asleep on a waffle iron. This is not the result of the invisible death rays blasted into your noggin but rather it is the consequence of lying face down pressed into what is essentially a custom-designed hockey mask fashioned for the sole purpose of keeping you in one place so that your idle movements don't cause the radiation, uh, "beam" to drift into your phrenological combativeness region and render you a milquetoast for the rest of your life.

Up-to-the-minute aids such as this guide Karen's medical team.

Karen was a champ during her first radiation treatment today, stoutly forgoing breaks between cranium blasts in order to just get it over with and trimming at least half an hour off the expected treatment time. She's going to have four more SRS sessions over the next several days and will wrap up this portion of her treatment January 2nd. Then we'll wait to give the brain masses some time to either continue to blossom or stop their foolishness. Sometime several weeks from now, after the tumors have had time to show measurable growth (but ideally not) Karen will have another MRI to see if the treatment worked.

The same more or less goes with the chemo. That started last Monday, December 23rd. The process was pretty straightforward and over within a relatively quick couple of hours. This brevity in treatment time is largely attributable to the fact that Karen did not receive any Avastin. This drug is being omitted from her first couple of chemo rounds since it does not play well with brain radiation. The Avastin will be probably added to her regimen for her third treatment. Sometime after that, there will be another scan to see if it's working.  Let me tell you, there's nothing more secure and comforting than having two enormous life-altering variables completely up in the air.

Despite the uncertainty of it all, Karen is a remarkable trooper in the face of all this. Not that it's a breeze. Karen's energy continues to ebb and it looks like she is losing weight (we don't own a scale so we cannot be sure--we'll let our doctor visits sort that shit out...it gives us even more to look forward to!). While weight loss would usually be something she'd celebrate it's less than welcome in a cancer patient. That whole "wasting away" business is the sort of thing you want to avoid. The pain from the brain tumors is being managed very well with steroids (to reduce painful swelling), painkillers (to dull the pain), and weed (because why the hell not?..and because it helps). The other fallout from the brain masses, however, continues to be an issue. Karen at times struggles to find words and to remember things. It's maddening for her to be so confused. For the pack of  rabid weasels that are the Coffey clan, this particular development has afforded us a golden opportunity to develop our woefully lacking patience, as we wait for Karen to find her word or as we gently nudge her where we think she was trying to go. All that, plus she's getting a little unsteady on her feet.

The good news is every once in a while we have an evening like last night where Karen gets an unexpected second wind and she and I can spend an hour or two reminiscing On Golden Pond style about the last 23 years of marriage and the 35 years of friendship we've shared. We had intended to start taking these nostalgic trips about 20 or more years down the road but that timetable probably isn't going to work. It's been nice, though. Just way, way too early.