My Radiation Story: 31 Sessions

I walked into my first radiation session on August 13, 2024, with curiosity and a quiet chilling fear. After undergoing chemotherapy, immunotherapy and a mastectomy for triple-negative breast cancer, radiation was the final stretch. My nerves had been removed, so I didn't expect pain in the traditional sense, but pain, I’ve learned, is not always physical.

What is Radiation?

Radiation damages the DNA of rapidly dividing cells (like cancer). When the cell’s repair system locks up, it “self-destructs” to prevent mistakes, a process called apoptosis.

What I Saw and What I Felt

Above me, the radiation machine loomed, it was silent, mechanical, and precise. I noticed silver discs inside it moving in deliberate patterns. They weren’t on me, but they were working for me. These discs are part of a system called a Multileaf Collimator (MLC). Made from tungsten, they shape the radiation beam to match the contours of the tumor site, minimizing harm to nearby healthy tissue.

This technology is essential in Intensity-Modulated Radiation Therapy (IMRT), the type my doctor, Dr. Kenneth Biehl at Salinas Valley Health, specializes in.

Even though my breast tissue was removed during my mastectomy, radiation therapy still played a crucial role in eliminating any microscopic cancer cells that could remain in the chest wall, skin, or nearby lymph nodes. This is where the precision of the Multileaf Collimator (MLC) and Intensity-Modulated Radiation Therapy (IMRT) came in. These technologies allowed my radiation oncologist to shape the beam to avoid healthy structures like my heart, lungs, and nerves, especially important since, without breast tissue, the protective layers were thinner. Radiation was targeting the hidden pathways cancer might try to return through. That kind of precision meant that while my body was healing from the visible loss, my treatment was quietly protecting the vital tissues beneath the surface.

Before treatment began, I had a consultation followed by a tattoo session (not with a buzzing needle and colorful ink) but by hand, using a single drop of ink placed beneath the skin, much like the ancient methods used by our Aztec ancestors. These tiny dots served as permanent alignment markers. They allowed the radiation therapists to precisely position me the same way every single session, ensuring that the beams targeted the exact same area each time. They also measured me for a custom pillow molded to my body (another tool used to guarantee accurate and reproducible positioning across all 31 treatments).

In radiation, this is a process where millimeters matter. These tattoos weren’t decorative like the 18 I had carried with me for years, they were medical, functional, and critical to my healing.

I didn’t feel pain during my first session. In fact, the only thing I felt was the weight of uncertainty. My family didn’t come with me like they had for chemo. Maybe because everyone told me radiation was easy compared to what I’d already been through.

Before one of my early sessions, the team handed me a small breathing tube and instructed, “Breathe in and hold it for 15 seconds.” We practiced a few times before beginning the actual treatment. What I later learned was that this technique is called Deep Inspiration Breath Hold (DIBH). It’s especially important when treating left-sided breast cancer, where the heart sits closer to the chest wall. By taking a deep breath and holding it, the lungs expand and push the heart further away from the radiation field, reducing the risk of long-term cardiac damage. The team explained that while some of the radiation might still pass through the top of my lungs, the lungs are generally more resilient and better able to recover from low-dose exposure compared to the heart. In that moment, it wasn’t just about breathing, it was about creating space, literally and figuratively, between the life-saving radiation and the organs that need to carry me through survivorship. I was eager to get started and eager to be done.

My story is not everyone’s story. My aunt had one session and couldn’t go back. She felt nauseous, dizzy, and said she’d rather do no more. Her son, my cousin, Army veteran, father & son, watched helplessly. Was it nerves? Was it her body reacting differently? We may never know. But I do know that each person’s response to radiation is different, and all of them are valid.

What Science Says About Radiation Pain

According to a 2024 review, up to 62.8% of patients undergoing radiotherapy report pain, with an average pain score of 3.6 out of 10. Even more concerning is that over half don’t receive adequate pain management. Younger patients often feel more intense side effects, perhaps because their baseline health is higher.

Pain varies by age, by cancer type and treatment goals. For others needing palliative radiation, it's used to ease symptoms, often reduces pain, while curative treatment can cause temporary but intense side effects like skin peeling, fatigue, and internal inflammation.

For me, the pain came slowly. Around session 7, my skin turned red and itchy. By session 12, it was peeling. The skin felt tough, like leaving a beauty mask on overnight and forgetting to wash it off. By session 18, I felt like I was running two miles each day, not from physical activity, but from exhaustion.

Radiation was killing cells, both cancerous and healthy. That’s what radiation does. It forces cells into apoptosis, a programmed cell death, to stop them from dividing uncontrollably. It’s confusing to think about. The same destruction that cancer causes is now being used to save me.

Strange Duality of Treatment

A recent meta-analysis showed that combining chemotherapy and radiation can increase survival rates by up to 40% in certain cancers. For example, patients with uterine or esophageal cancer saw median survival increase from around 9 to 12.5 months when both therapies were used. Radiation enhances the effects of chemotherapy by damaging tumor DNA and making it more vulnerable.

Still, the side effects are real. By session 25, my skin felt like leather and cement. I wore bandages and applied sulfide cream religiously. My body was tired, but my spirit wasn’t. I was nearly there.

The Final Stretch

On my last day, I followed protocol and dressed in my gown, placed my head on my custom pillow, and watched the tungsten leaves move one final time. These MLCs shaped every session, minimizing risk and maximizing impact. In simple terms: tungsten is strong, dense, and perfect for blocking radiation where it isn’t needed.

I rang the bell, my second bell in five months. My nurses clapped, and I held my balloon high. I did it.

The Takeaway

Radiation therapy isn’t one-size-fits-all. Some people feel intense pain. Some, like me, feel mostly fatigue and skin reactions. Others, like my aunt, might experience unbearable side effects after just one session. Science gives us tools like MLCs, IMRT, and image-guided radiation therapy (IGRT), but our bodies and minds still hold mysteries.

To anyone going through this: ask questions. Record your sessions. Share your story. Your experience matters. Because healing is not just about surviving, it’s about understanding.

Aftercare and Healing Beyond the Beam

Radiation also brushes up against the tissues nearby, sometimes quietly affecting organs we don’t expect. For me, that meant my lungs. Even though my treatment was focused on the chest wall, my doctor prescribed albuterol to help support lung function during recovery. I have a history of childhood asthma, and for years I thought I had outgrown it. But during a follow-up, my general doctor explained that asthma doesn’t really go away, it can just go quiet for long periods. That conversation reframed a lot for me. Even without active asthma symptoms, my lungs needed attention. Radiation can cause inflammation and temporary airway sensitivity, so albuterol is often recommended, not just for people with asthma, but for many patients receiving chest radiation. It opens the airways, eases breathing, and helps the lungs recover from subtle radiation stress. Just like skin creams helped the outer layer of my body heal, the inhaler became part of protecting what lay deeper, unseen but just as important.

Because I believe in sharing both the benefits and the risks, I want to include this article I came across discussing the possible connection between corticosteroid use and the risk of lung cancer. It’s important to remember that every body responds differently and what supports healing in one person might carry risks for another. Your recovery depends on a unique mix of genetics, environment, and how your body metabolizes treatment. Still, what I’ve learned through my own journey is that natural healing, when supported with awareness and care, often outweighs the discomfort of the in-between. Returning to your “new normal” isn’t always comfortable, but it’s always possible.

Suissa, Samy, et al. “Inhaled Corticosteroids and the Risks of Lung Cancer in Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease.” The American Journal of Respiratory and Critical Care Medicine, vol. 175, no. 8, 2007, pp. 712–719. PubMed Central, https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC1899285/

Demographic: Pain prevalence is higher in advanced disease (64%) than during active treatment (59%) or newly diagnosed (53%)

Pain management is inconsistent: Nearly 75% of curative RT patients had inadequate analgesia (the inability to feel pain)

Key Resources / Links:

• Assessment of Pain During Radiotherapy (ecancer.org)

• Pain and Symptom Differences by Age

• IMRT and MLC Use in Radiation Oncology (Wiley Oncology)

• Apoptosis and Radiation-Induced DNA Damage (CA: A Cancer Journal for Clinicians)

• Chemoradiation Outcomes

Author’s Note:

I am a nursing student and cancer survivor. I’m studying to better understand what I’ve been through and to help others like me, especially those navigating triple-negative breast cancer. If this helped you, share it. Someone else needs it too.

My radiation treatment consisted of 31 sessions, beginning on August 13, 2024, and concluding on September 25, 2024. I received my care at Salinas Valley Health, where each day brought me one step closer to recovery.