May the Force Be With You

We have been infected.  The Star Wars bug has overtaken the Davidson Family's immune system and is firmly in control.  Andrew, who just turned three, wanted a Star Wars birthday party.  Some small children are comforted by cuddly stuffed animals, not Andrew, he is lulled to sleep by his "double red" lightsaber.  Our upcoming Halloween will also be infected by Star Wars, so I see no cure in sight.

My week in Rochester, where I went through more testing and lung radiation, felt like I Ieft earth and went to a different Galaxy.   The radiation machine's goal was to "blow up" the large tumor in my left lung, hopefully clearing a pathway for my infection, and stopping Miss Mellie's handiwork from getting bigger.  I usually started early in the morning, approaching the radiation mothership already exhausted, nausea overtaking my stomach, and vertigo making me feel like I was walking in a moving space ship. 

After getting called into the treatment room, I crawled in a custom made body cast of sorts, my hands were above my head and then the techs wrapped me in an industrial plastic wrap, after which they literally hooked up a large vacuum and vacuum packed me to a table, all with the goal of keeping me perfectly still.  I truly looked like a character from Star Wars.  They didn't want me to move one little inch, one little centimeter, they didn't want me to move at all; the machines were calibrated to the nearest millimeter by lasers that looked like glowing tattoos projected on my body.  It wasn't just during the radiation I couldn't move, it was also during the CAT scans and all the time in between.  I learned this the hard way, when on the first day I moved between the scans (I could tell when they were scanning because of the bright red light) and the techs patiently came in and explained to me that I absolutely must be still from the moment they left the room, until they reentered, which usually lasted about 45 minutes.  I tried to explain that I was having a shoulder spasm and didn't they know how hard it was to hold perfectly still while a horse named Charlie was rearing in your shoulder? They patiently and firmly countered that didn't I, Ms. Davidson, know how close the tumor was to my heart and if I couldn't hold still they would have to put me under general anesthesia?  So, I learned to endure and hold still.

Tears fell from the corners of my eyes, rolled past my temples and landed in my ears, as the pain in my shoulder intensified day by day, but I held my vacuum packed pose.  I prayed to God pleading for strength, I pretended I was a Jedi Knight focusing on the Force to hold still, and I also played the Gratitude Game, trying to take my mind off the pain and focus on my many blessings.   By day three, as a result of inflammation from radiation, my left shoulder decided to torture me as well.

Absent the intense pain in my shoulders, the cancer killing radiation entered my body painlessly and silently; personally I was in a time warp, for me the seconds felt like minutes and the minutes slowed to weeks while I was alone in the treatment room, I felt like I aged a year after each treatment.   I will get another scan in a few weeks to see if the radiation destroyed enough of Miss Mellie in my lung so the ever present pneumonia and my collapsed lung can be healed.

I came back each day to the waiting room after finishing radiation to my brother Mike and my mom greeting me, loving me and helping me, sacrificing their time so they could be with me in Rochester.  Besides radiation, doctor visits, and more testing, we three musketeers were able to go for a drive looking at the turn of the century architecture and we went for a walk on a beautiful fall morning, when the air was crisp and clear and the leaves crunched beneath our feet.  The juxtaposition of my confinement in modern machines and the freeing feeling of nature made me appreciate both more.  The man made machines were helping my body and God's creations fed my spirit.

Friday was the best day of the week, not only was I finished with radiation, but my family came to Rochester to see me.  Grace, who wants to be a doctor, begged and pleaded to come and see what it was like to be radiated.  The doctor said she could see me be prepped for my radiation journey, but then she would obviously have to leave before the radiation beams assaulted my body. (Ruth, William, Bill and my mother-in-law also joined her.)  As a surprise, the staff made Grace a doctor's badge and gave her a tour, explaining every gadget and gizmo, answering all her questions.  The Mayo staff were so kind and I am grateful for their service to me and my family.

On the wall in the radiation waiting room is a plaque with a bell.  The plaque explains that after you finish your treatment, you ring the bell, celebrating your journey.  My kids helped me ring the bell and the typically somber waiting room erupted into applause, bringing tears to my eyes.  I finished my course and I hope I never have to take that path again, but if I do, I know I can.  I continue to learn to "Be still, and know that [He is] God."


Andrew's birthday party

Me getting prepped for radiation treatment. 

Grace learning about machine.

 Ringing bell after treatment

Family at Mayo Clinic

We went to Minneapolis for the weekend after I finished treatment. I felt pretty beat up, so I spent most of the time just being lazy. The kids went to a NBA Timberwolves game, swimming, and to Mall of America. I did go out, with my new mechanical friend. It felt so good being a normal family. We had a great time and we were able to spend time with some good friends as well, which was a real treat. 

Three musketeers selfie