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Chapter 19 "Hot Child in the City" 9/13/04 ***WARNING: This chapter contains radioactive material*** 
Finally! Time for my Radioactive Iodine Treatment (RAI). Since this is radiation that you take internally, it comes out in your bodily fluids and there are all sorts of precautions you have to take so that you're not walking around radiating everyone. Incidentally, between the gash across my neck and my radioactivity I figure I could star in my own horror movie (I'm on the phone with Paramount now.) Here are a few precautions for RAI patients that I found on various websites: (the parts in bold are actual quotes from websites--I'm telling you, this stuff is hilarious all by itself. I don't know how people keep a straight face when they go over these rules with patients)  1. Avoid mouth to mouth kissing and unprotected sex (use a condom). Hmm…no prolonged physical contact is allowed and no kissing is allowed… but sex is ok as long as it's protected…I'll just let you fill in your own blank here, this is a PG website. 2. Try to remain at least six feet from all pregnant women and children. Apparently scientists have discovered that radiation is lazy and won't bother to travel beyond six feet…How freaked out would you be as a pregnant woman if someone was like, I'm sorry ma'am, you're going to have to step six feet away because I'm radioactive…I would totally think that person had just escaped from an asylum. 3. Sharing food and utensils, including glasses, etc., should also be avoided. For example, when the treated person is eating an ice cream cone, it should not be licked by anyone else. Yes! finally I can enjoy a freakin'  ice cream cone without people licking it! I hate when people come up to me and lick my ice cream cone!
4. Be sure to thoroughly clean up any spilled urine. I think this should be a general rule for everyone. 5. Drink lots of liquids, void often, and flush twice. I'm starting a campaign to make this the new "Stop Drop and Roll." I'll be visiting elementary schools next week--with a six foot fence around me of course, safety first. The Winner's Cup I had to be at the hospital 7:30 Friday morning. I wasn't allowed to eat or drink anything starting midnight the night before, and knowing that I would have to pee in a cup I was determined to be able to go when the time was right. It's my lifelong dream to actually have to go when they bring the cup. I tried to remind myself not to pee in the morning but, you know, my mind is so messed up right now sometimes I can't remember that my name is…is… Anyway, I forgot and I went right before we left for the hospital. I then proceeded to throw an official fit. I also threw a fit because I didn't like the way my hair looked and because I couldn't find the right outfit to wear to the hospital at 7am. Yep, my priorities were quite in order. Who cares about getting rid of cancer, why can't I get rid of this hair that keeps sticking up?!? About 30 minutes after we got to the hospital I had to go to the bathroom. Perfect! We're almost done filling out the papers and then surely they'll bring me the cup! After we filled out the 500th form, they brought Danny and I upstairs to my room. We waited…and waited…and waited. We waited as I crossed and uncrossed my legs. We waited as I did "the dance" (I'm sure every mother out there knows exactly which "dance" I'm talking about). We waited until 2 hours later, the nurse came in with the cup. At that point I could have filled about four but whatever. They wanted it and I gave it to 'em. And all this just to prove I wasn't pregnant. I could have given them about 8 reasons why I wasn't (including the fact that my monthly visit came that very morning---I told you I was born lucky.)  Once they were positive I wasn't pregnant, a nuclear medicine technician came in to go over the rules with me. First she checked that everything I might touch was securely covered in paper and tape (basically every surface in the room). She said that once I was "hot" no visitors were allowed (once I'm hot? Ooooh! Am I getting an extreme makeover?!?) My husband could visit but only for 15 minutes per day and he'd have to stand over by the door. She told me to try to keep my bodily fluids contained in the appropriate basins, which meant no licking the walls or peeing in the sink. All my food would be brought on disposable dishes and trays. (I found out later this was really because all the local hospitals are in a competition to use the most paper.)
 Lemons and Mesh Pants, and Bored-Oh My!!!!I also had to give up all my clothes and put on the hospital's clothes which they will no doubt put in a special glowing bonfire after I leave. Anything I touch could become contaminated (hot). So my book, this notebook I'm writing in, anything I have with me will have to be checked with the Geiger Counter (!) before I leave. I even had to wear the hospital's special, disposable underwear (what I wouldn't give for my Hanes Her Way now!) These are hilarious and I brought some home because they were far too funny to pass up. They come in a square plastic package that says "Mesh Pants" and they pop out of an opening like Kleenex. The material is a cross between gauze and a fish net. I'm thinking of making shower poofs out of them for Christmas gifts. So cross your fingers and hope you're on my list! After we went over all the rules, it was time for Danny to leave and for me to get down to business. The Nuclear Tech left and came back with the goods. It was in a little 5-in by 5-in metal box on wheels with a six foot metal handle (so the person wouldn't have to be too close to it on the walk over.) The nuke person and the radiologist basically just had to stand there and watch me take the capsule. As soon as I swallowed it, the woman placed a big yellow warning sign on my bed that read "Patient contains radioactive material." Then she measured me with the Geiger Counter as they backed out of the room. I never thought I'd see the day when I'd register on a Geiger Counter. Boy, would mom be proud! Those few days were very tough for me.  What makes this type of radiation hard is the isolation and the fact that you're so hypothyroid that almost everything is an emotional crisis (see aforementioned hissy fits). I kind of felt like I had the Ebola virus. Nurses came in quickly and backed out very cautiously like I would explode at any moment. Danny came for 15 minutes every day and stood over by the door. I tried not to cry every time he left but it was hard. I was really lonely and bored.
This type of radiation has few to no side effects. One side effect is painful swelling of the salivary glands. One book said this might be helped by sucking on lemons. At first I thought this was some sort of cruel joke. Hmm…I have cancer, I'm depressed, I'm in isolation for 4 days, I'm wearing "mesh pants"---what is the one thing that could make this experience less pleasant? I KNOW! Sucking on a sour ass LEMON! (I substituted Jolly Ranchers)  I did a lot of talking on the phone, crying and staring at the wall. There were no paintings in the room, just wall paper that kind of looked like one of those "Magic-Eye" pictures. You know the ones where it's a bunch of fuzzy dots and (supposedly) if you stare at it long enough you'll see a sailboat or a pony. I started to think maybe that's why they had no pictures up. Maybe the wallpaper was a veritable wonderland if you belonged to the elite group of people with a "magic eye". I stared and stared, trying to remember all the instructions people had given me over the years: "You have to unfocus your eyes", "You have to look past it, but into it at the same time." Who could possibly go wrong with instructions like those? Needless to say, I never saw anything but the stains on the wallpaper.
Please, Don't Feed the Toilets Halfway through my first day I received the unhappy news that whatever food came into my room would be staying in my room until I left. I shortly started to feel nauseated.  I didn't know if it was the radiation, the anxiety or the faint smell of mushy, luke-warm broccoli. I immediately put in a call to Danny for an air-freshener. For the rest of my stay I did everything I could to try not to think about the rotting chicken carcass et al. in my garbage can. But you know, it's like, don't think of penguins. The more you try not to think of something, the more you think about it.
So, I came up with a new plan: feeding the toilet cut up bits of food I didn't finish. I knew I was playing a dangerous game. Was I willing to risk an embarrassing toilet clog for a little less food rotting in the garbage can? ...YES. I did feel kind of bad though, I'm sure the toilet didn't want the mushy peas any more than I did.  This new plan didn't help my already deteriorating relationship with the toilet. As I mentioned before, it was also my "time of the month". I had been instructed to flush every piece of...umm...equipment that I could, and the toilet was none to happy about it (especially after what I gave it for lunch). So against my better judgement I threw in the small, cardboard tubes, closed my eyes and pulled the handle. That's when it happened. That brief moment of sheer terror when you're not in your own house and you think the toilet isn't going to flush. I'm sure you've all been there, friend's house, fancy bathroom, and your breath catches in your chest as the water rises up instead of going down?
Really, there's nothing more frightening in the world than the prospect of having to go ask someone for help in this scenario. Usually your choices in this situation are: A) Pray HARD to the toilet-gods that it flushes on the second try. B) Crawl out the window, never return again (and change your phone number). C) Quickly leave the bathroom and deny, deny, deny. This option is risky because you may run into someone on their way into the bathroom, in which case you'll be forced to ask for help (pretending of course that was your plan all along).  The toilet just made a little gurgle and went still. No downward action. In this case, my only option was (a) pray HARD and give it another go. I was starting to panic and thinking if I had a fairy godmother this is the type of situation I'd want her for. Screw going to the ball, if I had a gaurantee that I'd never have an embarassing plumbing incident, life would be beautiful indeed.
I looked at the "pull for help" cord to my right and calculated the odds that a big plunger would come down from the ceiling. Because that would help. Thankfully, I didn't need the plunger, though all the trust completely drained out of my relationship with the toilet. I missed the good times we had together when we first met, it was stress free flushing. Every time I went in there after that we just stared at each other suspiciously. "Alright, let's just get this over with ok? This is no fun for either of us." I know what you're thinking. The answer is Yes. The toilet was my imaginary friend. Look, I was in complete isolation alright, cut me some slack. Radio-Free Lady After 2 and a half days of fighting with the toilet and trying not to think of rotting broccoli, the lady with Geiger Counter finally said I could go home! I was instructed  to not be around pregnant women or children for another week (guess I'll have to cancel that Lamaze class I teach.) I'm not supposed to sleep in the same bed or kiss anyone for a couple more days. So all those who were planning on sleeping in my bed should NOT come over this week (this includes you Matt Damon, I guess it'll have to be some other time.)
I called Danny right away to come with my clothes. He came to wait in my room with me (the Geiger Lady said it was ok). He was still nervous to be in the room so when they said it would be another hour before I was discharged he decided to go and get something to eat. Of course as soon as he left the nurse came in with my discharge papers. So I got dressed, noticing right away that Danny had forgotten to bring my shoes. However, I was not about to let shoes stop me from getting the heck out of that room. So, I gathered my stuff, looked around for any spilled urine that needed cleaning and walked down the corridor to freedom---in my socks. Once I got home my bottle of Cytomel was waiting for me with open arms. Now we're reunited and it feels so good. I go back to the hospital on the 20th for a scan to make sure it all worked, then I go on regular thyroid meds and I'm good to go! I'll let you all know how the scan turns out. Soon I will officially be The Artist Formerly Known as Follicular Cancer Lady! Here are some links for more info about Radioactive Iodine Treatment Patient guide to RAI therapy Endocrinologist.com |