Re: 9/10 Polly AMPS+9=120+10=141+11=118 SRT report day 3
Polly is fine again tonight. Tired. But last night was a long night for both of us.
IM doctor advised half dose tonight after last night's plunge. I'm not even sure about that. She's been at about 120 without food influence (she ate at +9, a little) since we got home around +9. I fear I'll feed her, shoot her, and then at +2, +3, etc. she'll drop precipitously and we'll play the same game we played last night.
What's the point of trying to lower glucose with an insulin injection and then spending the next 7 hours trying to bring glucose up with food/honey?
I'm just not sure what to do. Shoot half dose, risk another night of trying to get her numbers up. Skip this dose altogether and risk a zoom up by AMPS when she will get a half dose.
I dunno. Appreciate any input.
And all the below is my exciting afternoon touring and learning about the SRT process that Miss Polly is experiencing. I found it fascination. I understand if others don't!!
CSU is amazing. Large waiting area, wings branching out in at least four directions. Busy, busy, busy. Blue-lab coated people bustling about, mostly 4th year students coming in to the waiting area to find, meet clients. Lots of smiles and personal attention. Constant motion. But seems almost choreographed. White-coated doctors also come out to share info with waiting clients. Always a palpable sense of kindness, compassion. As busy and hectic as the place seems, each professional-client contact is without rush. Calm, as though the client is the only person in the often very crowded room.
Had a chance to really observe the initial goings-on as I waited about a half hour for a 1:00 appt. with Polly's radiation oncologist. Since she was held up, Dr. LaRue, head of Radiation/Oncology Dept. meet me to start THE TOUR! Wow! When she found out Polly was originally a street cat who'd been painfully shy, she had to pull out her phone and show me pictures of her former street cat, a wild child, as we were walking down the hallway to our first stop. And her beautiful grey white cat, 20 years old. And her gorgeous long-hair black cat...and a skip through her black lab ...ahhhhh, I miss Will. Hope he's having fun with the people who are keeping him while I'm gone.
Clear, but fast, explanation of the stereotactic radiation beam machine and how the process is tailored to Polly, accompanied by computer images of Polly's CT scans, the process used to determine beam path, and the final image of how the beams attack the tumor. Looked like an incredible string art picture.
Then through the holding area. Large, but pretty sterile cages. About eight of them. Into the next room where a bank of computers made me think of a NASA launch scenario. One focused on patient, one focused on the action of the beam, one monitoring anesthesia, one showing the roof above the radiation room...concrete encased room save for the roof. No workers up there during any treatments!
Next, into the accelerator room itself, with a pass through a small anteroom where Dr. Swift (Polly's radiation oncologist) showed me the mold of Polly's mouth that helps to line her up perfectly each day in the same position. Since she has no teeth, Polly's mold had her gums and all the little ridges in the roof of her mouth as guide lines. And there's a wire plastic mask-like thingy that fits over her head as well as a formed "pillow" that her head rests on. She must be placed exactly in place each day.
In the blast room. A dog, Jack Russell type, on the carbon table awaiting radiation; they were positioning him. The beam accelerator is magnificent. Amazing. I got to look at anything I wanted, even up into the glass fronted rectangular configuration the beam comes through. So much fun, for me. So much good for Polly.
Marilyn and Polly