The Best Worst Thing: Entry 4 | Radiation

Be sure to read in order:
Diagnosis
PET CT Scan
Scan Results
Radiation
Eadem Mutata Resurgo

Radiation
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Christina arrived late Thursday evening. We caught up in the car driving back from the airport. I still couldn’t believe why she was here. Next year we celebrate 25 years of friendship. I don’t know how to wrap words around this friendship. We met on the bus in first grade. She had moved from Oklahoma mid-year. My sister Nicki was so happy to see her climb on the bus that morning. She was tired of me hanging around her friends. Christina looked to be my age.

Some weeks later, Nicki facilitated the exchange of phone numbers. 498.5868. I number I’d dial a million times before leaving Omaha. We were attached at the hips, and we remained that way until both going away for college – Christina to OH and me to MN. We played every sport together. We had sleepovers every weekend. We watched the Little Mermaid, ate Skittles, took trips to IA, and competed in World Finals for Odyssey of the Mind (nerd alert).

We went to different high schools. People wondered if that was the end of Oats and Grains. We still lived .4 miles away. The night my mom passed away, I asked my sister Julie to take me to Christina’s. We had just finished our freshman year. We pulled into the drive and Christina and Mama Graney stood in the doorway waiting for me. We sat on the couch and cried.

A year later, I moved across town. I remember going to Christina’s house to break the news. We sat on the curb and I told her. She said, “Ortman, if Marian and Duchesne didn’t separate us, what’s a few miles? We get our licenses soon and it won’t be that bad. And by the way, we’ll probably go to different colleges out of state and that won’t matter either.”

So here she was. By my side, having flown over 1200 miles, in my greatest time of need, as we walked into Porter Hospital for radiation.

I wore my Superman t-shirt and yoga pants that morning. Nicki was there in the waiting room when we arrived, also wearing a Superman t-shirt and yoga pants. Sisters. They called me back alone to get me changed, give me a pregnancy test and hook me up to the IV. My nurse Cheryl informed me, “You are not with child.” We laughed together.

Nicki, Kirstin, Christina and Julie went back to join me. Pirate patches and all. The pictures had started. I looked at the Facebook event and it gave me such comfort seeing my family and friends supporting me.

The anesthesiologist, Dr. Reiner and Dr. Hovland all came in before the surgery. Dr. Reiner was again so happy to see my sisters, friend and the little one.

Not once during this whole process, did I google machine anything. Ocular cancer. Melanoma in the eye. PET CT Scan. Radiation in the eye. I knew I’d read the worst case scenario and cling to that. This was my own experience and it would be mine. I trusted my doctors and they did a good job of explaining the processes and the facts. But beyond that, I had no idea what I was in for. No expectations – good or bad.

The surgery went well. Basically, they pulled back the muscles holding in my eye, tilted my eye forward, slit an opening in the envelope surrounding my eyeball, and tucked in a plaque containing the radiation. I was actually alert-ish. And apparently funny. The doctors talked to my sisters and Christina after and informed them I was quite the comedian. I bet I was telling them all my eye puns and pirate jokes.

When I left the hospital, they told me not to vomit or have any difficult bowel movements. Noted. Two things we can all control.

Christina and I headed back to my apartment. We stopped at Target to pick up lunch and my prescriptions. I was feeling okay. After lunch, I took a Percocet and that’s when it got ugly. I started puking and it hurt like a mother. I was scared that I was somehow messing up the treatment. Christina was on the phone with my doctor, my dad and my sister. She was also putting up my black out curtains in the living room to block out any light.

She finally got the doctor to call in an anti-nausea medicine, but that meant she needed to leave me alone to go to the pharmacy to get it. I was in no condition to be left alone. I told her which neighbors I knew well enough to ask to stay with me while she left. No one was home. I was started to have an anxiety attack. My arms were numb and it was creeping to my legs and my face. I was shaking uncontrollably.

It was getting late and she needed to go to the pharmacy before it closed. I asked her to call my dad. I’d put him on speaker while she went to the store.

“Hi, Daddy.”

“Hi, Kate. How are you feeling?”

“I’m so scared. Will you sing to me?” I asked.

He laughed. I cried. He started to sing, “When I was just a little girl, I asked my mother, What will I be?”

Growing up as the youngest of four, one-on-one time with either parent was a rare treat. My three older siblings completed my dad’s foursome, so I wasn’t as interested in golf as the others. I spent most of my Saturdays at the fabric store with my mom. Quality time with my dad was singing Que Sera Sera while he dried my hair every night. At some point we added, “Are you ready for some football?” to the end.

In my younger days, that was followed by a bedtime story, which my dad would end with “The Beginning.”

I didn’t realize it at the time, but those are moments that define my childhood. And sometimes, even as an adult, you just need to feel like Daddy’s little girl again.

“…Que Sera Sera,” he finished. “What will be will be.” Then he shouted, “ARE YOU READY FOR SOME FOOTBALL!”

Christina was back in a flash. My sister Julie arrived, too, to help. I took the anti-nausea medicine and didn’t puke again. But I was still shaking pretty badly. Finally, Julie suggested I just go to bed. They tucked me in and I slept.

The next day was rough, but not as rough as the night before. It was tough to open my good eye. It hurt because turns out, your eyes move together. So when you have something anchored on the back of one eye, and you move the other eye, it feels relatively crappy.

We popped in our childhood Disney movies and I manually opened my right eye to watch. We were still sitting in a cave. Christina sat in the dark with me for the next two days. We ate Skittles, watched movies, but didn’t say much. That’s a true friendship.

Saturday evening, I reminded Christina she could help herself to wine. She said, “Girl, I did that a while ago. I’ve got a glass.” We went to the rooftop for some fresh air and I had a glass, too. One of my recurring questions to the doctors was, “Now, can I have wine during this phase?”

By Sunday, I was exhausted and just too tired to keep my good eye open. Thank goodness I was able to sleep well. I slept 12-14 hours every night that week. What else was I supposed to do? Christina flew out that afternoon. My sister Nicki was picking me up to go stay with her for the week, but there was no way I could handle a drive way east to the airport then way west to Nicki’s.

I called in a favor. So many people had said, “Anything you need, just call.” I have a short list of what I call my key players. They are the true blue friends who mean it when they say that. I called my friend Lynn, and she was happy to help. She took Christina to the airport. It was hard to say goodbye, and I couldn’t wait to see her again under better circumstances.

Nick and Nicki have a great guest room in the basement of their home. I was a resident there the week of my ACL surgery in November. Nick is also an amazing chef. Luckily, I wasn’t dealing with a loss of appetite after either surgery. By Monday, I was able to open my eye more easily. I watched several episodes of Sex and the City in the basement then Nicki invited me up to watch some shows with her.

On Tuesday, more lights were on and I could finally handle looking at my cell phone. I had been hearing that the Eye Patch Day page was a hit and there were a ton of pictures. It was so neat to see what everyone had posted. My friend Heather and her family were at Sea world. A dozen of them donned the eye patch with the caption, “See World!”

My friends Sarah and Rick had married that day. They posted a picture with their wedding party all wearing eye patches. It gave me chills to read the messages and see the support.

Nick and Nicki adopted a sweet baby girl on May 8, so they certainly had their hands full with a new born, a toddler and a cancer patient. Because of the radiation, I wasn’t able to hold Kirstin, but I could help feed her. My nephew Mikey was sweet as always. Come Wednesday, when they were both napping, Nicki was able to run an errand. I felt useful finally.

Wednesday I also took a walk and grabbed lunch. It was a little too ambitious, so I also napped when the kiddos did. Wednesday evening, Nicki and I went to Julie’s to toast our mom. It was the 16 year anniversary of her death. It happened again, that we both walked into the room wearing matching t-shirts. This time, “I run because a glass of wine has 110 calories.”

Come Thursday, I was feeling really good, despite the fact that I had not washed my hair in 6 days. Nicki took me to see Scott, her brother-in-law who owns a salon. He washed my hair. I felt like a new woman! Yet another giant favor from a key player. He wouldn’t let me pay him, and I should have paid him $1000 for that task.

I went home that afternoon and cleaned my apartment and did laundry. I could see the light at the end of the tunnel.

Sarah had created a meal train for me, and my key players were starting to secure dates to bring me dinner. Roger had the first night. He picked me up and we went to grab dinner and a Guinness. I started to understand the true meaning of the meal train. This would be an opportunity for me to process what I was going through with my dearest friends.

Friday morning, Sarah picked me up to take me in for the removal of the radiation. Cheryl from the week before stopped in to see me. I was almost done. I couldn’t wait to get this out.

I was wheeled into the operating room and heard someone say, “Katie Ortman?” I’d only been referred to as Catherine by my doctors, so I knew it was someone I knew personally. Of course, without my glasses, I couldn’t see.

“Who is it?”

“Pat, from the Denver Gaels.”

“Which Pat? You’re all named Pat!” I asked.

“Pat Folan,” he answered.

I was so happy to see him. I asked if he knew this was going on and he had not heard. I asked him to tell our friend Tara and the doctors yelled, “He can’t!”

Pat is a surgery tech and he checked in on me after the operation. He’s always been one of my favorites in the Gaels, a Gaelic Football club I played for in Denver. Unfortunately, all this forced me to hang up my boots. It was really comforting having him there that day. My sister’s reaction was, “Of course you knew someone in the operating room.”

Julie collected me. We waited patiently as they gathered my personal belongings from the safe. I had a new eye patch on. We stopped to get me a smoothie before picking up her sons from a friend’s house. Julie’s friend was happy to help so Julie could get me, obviously a smoother process sans kids. Even people like that made a big difference to me.

The boys were so sweet and very excited for a “sweepovur.” After dinner, I watched a movie with them in the basement that involved talking Chihuahuas. While part of me wanted those 82 minutes back, I wouldn’t have traded it if given the chance. Getting to spend time with them like that is why I live here.

I turned in shortly after they did and they were very anxious for me to get up in the morning to play. They couldn’t understand why I was still sleeping. I’d been up a couple times in the middle of the night to have a snack with my Percocet.

I asked Julie and Ron if they’d be okay for a couple hours on their own. I wanted to take the boys to a movie. Of course they were. Julie dropped us off. Keeping your eye on two energetic boys when it really is singular, is quite a challenge! I had to explain to them how important it was to not get out of my sight. There was a preview for Monsters University and I told the boys I’d take them when it came out. A few weeks later, their mom asked them to see that and they told her, “No. Aunt Katie promised she’d take us.”

At one point that day, Peter asked me, remember that really cool black eye patch you wore? Julie was right, wearing an eye patch makes you the coolest aunt ever.

That night, Julie and I hosted a sip and see for baby Kirstin. Nicki’s in-laws were there and it was really great to be in their company. Nick’s parents treat me as part of the family and their support in this has been wonderful. Gigi, Nick’s grandma has some vision issues, too. At one point, she looked at me and said, “Honey, we should just sit down and have them wait on us.”

Jen picked me up from Julie’s house in Parker that night, and I was on my way home. I would start to get back into my groove. I felt like my life had just been put on pause. For how long? 22 days. 22 days from the day I was diagnosed to the day they removed the radiation. Hard to believe. I remind myself of this daily.