Tonight was what I believe they refer to as the "dry run" for radiation. I returned tonight to Froedtert and was introduced to my "team". I will have the same three people, for the most part, for the next six weeks. This evening I met Barb and Kacia (Kay-sha) and I believe the third person's name is Courtney (but you only get two at a time, so I will have to meet Courtney another day). They seem very nice and helpful, but I must be a dunce because when they told me that when I come in (I took that to mean "in the future") I can ask them for whatever radio station I would like, I just nodded my head and smiled. Refer to this moment later.
Here's what they don't tell you beforehand about the dry run - in order to set the machines up properly for the exact area of your body that they are going to radiate, they take a series of x-rays. Do you get to sit in a nice cushy chair for these rays of sunshine? Oh no. Of course not. Nope. You must lie on the same plastic table, with just a towel and a gown between you and the hard knocks life, with both your arms over your head and slightly raised, yet again, no real cushion under your head, and the chin strap firmly in place causing a wonderful choking sensation. And, by the way, remember when that CT scan was the longest five minutes of your life? Yeah.... These x-rays are gonna take like a half-hour. Now, stay still.
I am not catholic, but Holy Mary, Mother of God, this is some kind of torture. The lights go on. The lights turn off. You hear a clicking occasionally (of the x-rays). Sometimes the bed-thingy moves suddenly causing a disorienting/nauseating sensation to creep into your head and then you realize there are people in the room with you again, but because of the damn (sorry) chin strap you can't see anything except what is exactly right above your head and, gee, it would be a little bit nice if they informed you of their presence, but then they are by your head with a marker putting dots on your body ("Don't worry, they come right off in the shower.") and telling you that the machine will now rotate under your body to take x-rays and then they are gone and there is more lights on, lights off, click, click, click. All the while, your arms are above your head and slightly raised and they have gone from prickly, to painful, to numb, and then back again. Oh, and did I mention the radio is set to the Country Station? I am sorry if this offends you, but that is a whole new torture all of it's own. I thought I was supposed to choose a station in the future. Not today! Sheesh! Thirty minutes of just about anything else (except, potentially Rap) would've been better.
And then...the second time they come in to adjust all the knobs and buttons and doo-hickys (not really, mostly they adjust my body to what I assume by the reflections I see, are lights appearing on it to show them where everything should be - thus, the tattoos), they tell me that they have to restart the computer (not the entire test, praise the lord, or we would have had some t-r-o-u-b-l-e) and that it will just take a couple of extra minutes. Hey, no worries folks. I didn't really need my arms, anyway!?
By that point, I had actually gone from being nervous, to somewhat relaxed, to extremely uncomfortable, to internally slap-happy. Suddenly it all felt like a big joke to me. Country music?! Ha ha ha ha. Computer reboot?! Hee hee hee hee. Tattoos and markers? Ho ho ho ho. X-rays and radiation. ROTF.
Okay, all set. Now lie still. For twenty more minutes. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!
The next time they came in I heard the biggest joke of all. My nearly-B non-cancerous breast is in the way of the radiation beams so they will have to tape it down to get it out of the way. Okay, what?! Yeah...they don't want to radiate anything else other than the specific area that needs to be radiated and that includes Girlfriend No. 1, so it will have to go ahead and get out of the way via a long piece of tape that stretches from my chest to....the table! Yup! The table. Chin strapped in. Breast taped down...to the table! Awe-some.
I have no modesty left. None. It is gone. I am now officially eighty years old and will be talking about just about everything you never wanted to know about being eighty years old. Thanks, cancer. Good one. I am now my grandma. Try me.
By the time it was all over, my arms were somewhat floppy, my head felt fuzzy from being on that hard surface, my back was stiff, and ear was bright red from where the damn (sorry) chin strap was digging into it. But forty-five minutes later ("Sorry that took extra long")...it was over.
Apparently, next comes the easy part???
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