My Journey into the Light
I know that most of the people would tell you not to go into the light but mine was an exception.
Exactly 10 months after I was diagnosed to have Mycosis Fungoides (MF), a rare kind of skin cancer but the most common type of Cutaneous T-cell Lymphoma, my real battle has finally began. After so many technicalities with the accreditation of the specialist who will be doing my phototherapy, last June 8 I have experienced my first ever Narrowband UVB treatment. I went to the hospital for thyroid ultrasound and not for phototherapy. Anyway, the result of the ultrasound wasn’t that favorable but that’s another story. So since we were already there I decided to drop by the Dermatological Center to ask if there are necessary things that I need to bring before my scheduled phototherapy which was supposedly the day after that. It turned out that there are no preparations or special medications that I need to do or take that’s why the doctor decided to start it that same day also. When the doctor escorted me to the Phototherapy unit and introduced the machine to me that’s when my real problem began. I know that I have never mentioned it in any of my posts but I’m a closet claustrophobe and I am really ashamed to admit it so I kept it to myself for so long. I’ve got lots of fears actually. I’ve got acrophobia (fear of heights), zemmiphobia (fear of rats) and coulrophobia (fear of clowns). Only my family and closest friends know about these fears that I have aside from claustrophobia. So going back, my doctor had a look of concern on her face when she noticed how my face suddenly turned white as a sheet. She held my clammy hands and that’s when she asked me an important question: “Are you claustrophobic?” With tears already rimming my then red eyes, I slowly nodded. My husband was surprised because he doesn’t know that about me. I was hyperventilating because the machine has so very little space inside that it felt like I’m inside a coffin in a standing position. Here’s the picture of the machine which scared the living daylights out of me:
My kind doctor asked her assistant to get me a glass of water and let me sit and relax for awhile. It took me 30 minutes to strip down and wear the hospital gown when it usually takes other patients just a minute or two. I wore UV blocking goggles and a light impenetrable black cloth was put over my face as if I’m going to be beheaded or placed in an electric chair.
That darn cloth petrified me even more. Picture a barely naked claustrophobic going inside a coffin like machine with black cloth over her head; it was so traumatic for me I’m telling you. It took a lot of coaxing and sweet talking from my hubby, doctor and the rest of the nursing assistants in that department before I was convinced to go inside. They literally cheered for me and I was so touched that my fear slowly melted away. They let me get used to the machine before they started the treatment. They were so nice and didn’t care if my fear was causing a long line already outside. After almost an hour, I finally said the words that they have been meaning to hear “I’m ready!” And when the door was closed and the machine came to life with the cooling fans noisily whirling above me, I did not feel like the walls are closing in on me anymore. It has become my “imaginarium” that produces only pleasant thoughts while you are inside of it.
Hubby was so supportive. He even told me to imagine that it’s a time machine and not a coffin, and that when I get out I’ll be transported to the time when all my lesions and cancer cells are gone. What a happy thought indeed! My Rah-rah boy even did the countdown with me. My first session was just 1 minute and 15 seconds but it was the most meaningful moment of my life.
With eyes closed, I have looked at fear straight in the face and defeated it. I felt like a winner, it’s like hitting two birds with one stone. My cancer is not the only one being healed by this machine; it is surprisingly curing my deepest and darkest fears as well. I’ve learned an important lesson that day; I can be victorious if I choose to. And I can also be invincible if I want to. So I guess this journey into the light is not so bad after all.
Things are not always what they seem.
Photos courtesy of Google.
One Response to “My Journey into the Light”
Leave a Reply
Subscribe
-
Wow! I could imagine! It must be really hard. Good thing you have a very supportive husband. God bless!