The Daily Hailey

Brady blog time! I heard that a handful of you have requested that I write about my daily experience at the Cancer Centre so here you go.

It always starts with a lovely drive into the city with my wife, whom you all know and love. She tries to get the same rockstar parking spot everyday, right next to the wheelchair ramp because thats how I roll now. But honestly, I feel like a rockstar just getting to park in the cancer centre parking lot. I’ve always made horribly dark jokes to Hailey when we visit the hospital about how lucky those cancer patients are to be able to park so close to the front door. And now I’m one of those patients! Silver linings.

So we park like rockstars, and Hailey heads to get my chair from the back of the van to bring it around to my door. With a steady hand from Hailey on my back I slowly step down out of the van, making sure my right leg will hold, and then plunk down in my chair and get comfy. A smooch, a hug, and an ‘I love you!’ and I’m off. Hailey has been encouraged to stay in the vehicle unless absolutely necessary for covid’s sake. 

This time of year has been pretty perfect because it’s always a refreshing breath of air and sunshine as I turn to wheel up the ramp and around the sidewalk to the front of the building. Through the front door and I’m met with an ‘Oh, there he is!’ or a ‘Here come’s Speedy!’. I’ve built up decent banter with the security guard in charge of the sanitizing and remasking station. He’s very friendly and helpful and makes an effort to make a connection with each person who comes through. The Cancer Centre could not have found a better person to place at the front door, greeting patients in such circumstances. 

With a new mask and fresh hands I head off to the elevators to head down to the basement. For the first week or two I always pressed the call button in between the two elevators and took the first elevator that showed up. I realized after a while that it was always the right elevator that would show up and there was actually a second set of call buttons on the far left. So I was feeling crazy one day and I tried pressing the left side button. Wouldn’t you believe it, the left elevator opened. It. Was. Glorious. 

Never did I think that two elevators, side by side, could be so different. While righty was a typical elevator you’d find in an aging hospital, Lefty was what you’d find in a moderately maintained business tower! Worn, scratched floor vs not worn or scratched. Plastic bumper rails vs stainless steel bumper rails. Yellowed, plastic buttons vs shiny steel buttons. Stanky air vs less stanky air. It is now my elevator of choice. And only the left buttons will operate it so for those of you headed to the cancer centre in the future, look for the buttons to the left of the elevator on the left. It’s worth it.

The ride downs short and uneventful, and then I’m off down the hall to radiation department. The check-in at reception is quick. They ask my name and date of birth and confirm my appointment for the next day and then I hurry down the hall to wait next to one of the socially distanced chairs. It’s usually 5 minutes or less before one of the techs comes to find me and take me to the illustrious ‘Atlantis Room’. It’s all decorated to look like we’re under the sea and the people are super friendly. Asking about my weekend and my family and just being super personable. It’s so nice!

As we chat about the topic of the day I wheel into the radiation room and strip off my t-shirt and glasses, as well as a discrete check of my belly button for lint. Hailey coined the nickname ‘Fuzz farm’. So thats a thing now. 😀 

I then wheel over to the bed and hop up, arranging my legs and laying down into the mould they’ve made of my upper body. It’s very comfortable. 🙂 Then they use the sheet I laid down on to adjust my body until the dots they tattooed on my ribs line up with the laser light show they have set up all around the room. They tell me ‘Dont help us, let us move you’. So I just lay there being pulled and twisted until I hear both techs say ‘Breathing on’ in succession. They operate some controls on the side of the bed and it lifts me up about 5’ into the air and then leave the room. It’s usually at this point that I take note of the amount of BO I have that day being that my arms are propped up above my head and out of the way.

The machine hangs over me like a bathroom faucet while two arms extend out and give me a big x-ray hug. First from the side and then, after the whole machine rotates 90 degrees, from above. The arms then retract as the bed itself makes some small adjustments to make sure I’m in exactly the same spot every time. The radiation faucet then rotates until its all the way underneath me, waits for a second, makes a Ka-chunk and starts buzzing like I’m laying on a bed inside an electrical substation.

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Seconds until the buzzing stops with another Ka-chunk.

I’m staring straight up, praying for healing and strength while Snow’s ‘Informer’ plays quietly from the intercom above my feet. The machine rotates back 45 degrees to my left side. Ka-chunk. Buzz.

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Ka-chunk. More Prayer. More lucky boom boom down. The machine takes a second to rotate all the way around me to reach 45 degrees on the right side. I guess the goal is to hit my spine from below me at three different angles. As the machine rotates over my face I can see that the window where the radiation comes from has what looks like lead fingers extending out from each side with a gap in the middle in the shape of my spine. lol Technology *scoffs*. Ka-chunk. Buzz.

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Ka-chunk. A sense of relief and washes over me like a cool breeze. One of the techs strolls into the room and mentions I can put my arms down now while they grab a remote from the side of my bed and starts lowering me back down to normal height. Chit chat resumes as I climb off the bed back into my chair, wheel over to where my shirt and glasses are to clothe myself again. ‘Have a good night’ and ‘see you tomorrow’ are exchanged and I wheel out of the treatment room, past the under the sea decorations, and down the hall. On Tuesdays I stop at the reviews desk to chat with some incredibly wonderful ladies there about how I’m feeling and how my body is reacting to the treatments. They work incredibly hard to make sure I’m feeling well through my treatments. Good job, ladies!

After that I make a quick pitstop in the wheelchair accessible washroom next to reception and while I’m sitting for a second I text Hailey to let her know that I’m on my way out. I usually offer a ‘see you tomorrow’ to reception as well and then make a beeline for the elevators. Good ole Lefty gives me a lift back up to ground level and I take the alternate exit out because it spits me out much closer to the parking lot. I’m usually inside the building for 25 minutes or less. An important thing to note here is that the vestibule I exit through always smells like the most recent food that was microwaved in the adjacent lunch room. Must be an issue with the ducting.

I exit the building and I’m hit with another blast of fresh air and sunshine. I wheel down the short path to the parking lot and as I round the corner I see my amazing Hailey, bright and cheery and ready to help me load up and go home. 

Upbeat music, a scenic drive along the river, good conversation, and a ginger ale are the usual recipe for the drive home. Overall its a pretty pleasant experience. Nice people, efficient facility and equipment. Seems like a decent setup they’ve got there. No reason to be afraid or nervous. I give it a 5 outta 5 if you’re the type to frequent a place like this. 

Anyways, I think it’s your typical, everyday kind of cancer radiation treatment. Hope you enjoyed 20 minutes in my shoes!