“What is your pain on a scale of 1-10?” the nurse asked.

I answered……. “15”

That was the moment my husband began to fully comprehend what was happening. He knew I was in pain, and had been in pain for several months. But pain was not something I have ever been able to assign a number to.

The nurse found a new gear when I said my pain level was 15. She finished what she was doing as quickly as possible, consulted with the doctor, and ran off to set up an IV drip of morphine for me. I was wheeled down to the infusion room to get the morphine drip, tears still randomly streaming down my cheeks. They wanted to get my pain under control so I could go downstairs to the radiation oncologist and get fitted for my radiation pillow.

In order to get the proper position for the radiation, a pillow is molded to hold me in the same position for every treatment. They use a CT scan to know where the radiation will be targeted and how to best ‘arrange me’ to make the molded pillow. I admit, I almost laughed when they asked me to “hop up on the table.” Obviously, there was no hopping that was going to be done. I remember staring at the table wondering how I would get out of the wheelchair and onto the flat, cold, hard table they wanted me to lie on.  The morphine had not been enough. I think my husband actually heard my screams in the waiting room.

After a few attempts, they eventually got me situated enough to get the scans and make the pillow. Then they told me I could get back in the wheelchair. Another laugh, another scream, another 10 minutes trying to figure out how to make that transition.

We met with the radiation oncologist after the scan/pillow episode. This was the first time we actually saw the scans. I don’t have any medical background, but my husband has a degree in kinesiology. As the doctor was talking, I was watching my husband’s reaction more than looking at the scans.

My husband’s face told me more than the words the doctor was speaking.

Without going into an anatomy lesson, the best description is the bone that holds the femur in place was no longer there. It was gone, eaten, destroyed. It was no wonder my pain level was off the scale, my femur was just floating, there was no joint left.

According to the doctor, the radiation was going to help with the pain (THANK GOD, because the morphine was doing NOTHING). Onward, to radiation!!!