Gearing up for chemical, not political s-storm

When I walked into the radiation oncology office and heard the incredibly pleasant nurse (they are all trained to be superbly optimistic, no other offices have such client skills) say “So nice to see you, ah, you are a new patient”, I just couldn’t help but say “Yep, unfortunately, I am” while thinking “who the hell wants to be here – ever?”. Tough job as these medical professionals are the last people you want to see yet, you are dependent on them to get you through it.

A new doctor is in the picture now. Radiation oncologist. Never knew this existed until now. This is the magician that based on my MRI pictures actually programs the computer where to send the Xrays without destroying anything vital. Yes, he better get this right and of course, the machine better nail this and not be hacked by some crazies. Not the time! He basically maps with GPS where to send it and then says what areas to avoid and then lets the computer go and figure out the right angles how to reach it. Aggh – I am a techy geek but this dependence on technology is scaring me. Fortunately, I am told, my tumor – while unusual in unusual places – managed to pick a place where nothing significant is placed. Soooo – you mean the empty spot in my brain? It would make sense since I had no symptoms but is there really a completely empty space in your brain? I thought mine was full of numbers, puzzles, languages, useless stuff, etc….. 🙂 There are some “small” pieces like vision right next to it – but apparently THE place to be. Gosh, I am either hitting a lottery with this beast here or just a plain freak of nature? 🙂

This week is all prep for next week start.

  • Made it through my spine MRI (all clear) with Xanax, music and a newer machine – a whole different experience, yet still not a walk on the beach. Not really sure how Xanax works as the only thing I noticed relaxing was my bladder – but hey, I made it through so it counts


  • Had a radiation mask made – something of a mix of Zorro mask with Hannibal Lecter but with holes to breathe. Strange thing, they basically lock you into it so nothing moves and magic computer machine does the work by spinning around your head.

radio mask

  • Had a rehearsal – yes, rehearsal this afternoon. In mask, on the table, 15 minutes of some invisible magic. But hey, no noise, no tube, no dark and I can bring music to be out loud from my phone. Piece of cake for this hospital frequent flier who will start glowing in the dark soon. Everyday for the next 6 weeks at 845 am – that is my place to be.
the magic machine rotating around me with me on the table
  • Got my chemo drug – fell of the chair when I heard the prize (5,800$) and that is AFTER my insurance covered $7000 – hell. And this is a supply for 6 weeks only. I really don’t know how others do it. Not only are you hit with this diagnosis but the bills, costs, dependency on insurance and going back to work so you don’t lose it – that is just something that blows my mind in this country. It also comes packaged as if a chemical agent came in – which I guess it did.
  • Went to gym almost everyday – am going to strengthen for this medical journey

I kind of feel like this is the last week of natural state. After next week, it is a chemical cocktail flowing into me and I have a strange feeling about it. On one hand, I know this is what they know has a chance to eliminate the cells – on the other hand, I hate that this stuff will be flowing through me. I am no Earth queen but I do tend to avoid drugs – but in this case, this is my best chance so here we go – bring it on!


  1. Misha — you certainly have a gift with words –“Soooo – you mean the empty spot in my brain? … I thought mine was full of numbers, puzzles, languages, useless stuff, etc….. 🙂” Rooting for you from down here in Texas.

    Liked by 2 people

  2. Misha, thank you for sharing your medical journey. I continue to pray for you and your family, knowing it is tough, but the love you all have for each other is apparent to all of us that follow your adventures. We are rooting for you here in Missouri too!

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  3. You’re a warrior! Chemo and radiation at the same time? Chemo every week, or every Other? You’re in my thoughts. Good luck, the exercise is what kept my mom feeling normal. It was her area to “control”. Hugs

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  4. Miso, I always knew farmaceutical business is one hell of a rip off but go girl. Plough thru what u have to get thru and soon you will be back on your bio food/active life/sun/travel – best remedies you can get. Thinking of you with all my fingers x. Drz se, kocko!!!

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  5. Thx for keeping all of us informed with these blogs. You’re doing fab… working out (wow), maintaining your sense of humor and knowing when to say no to things on days when you aren’t up to treatments. Just imagine, by the end of the treatments you’ll be in shape and perhaps glowing… even more so. ❤

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