Thursday - July 24, 2008

Radiation Vibe 

4 down,  29 to go.

For some odd reason, all the doctors, nurses, and techs who have worked on me along the way have been female, with the exception of the cyst aspirating guy and the rejected surgeon, both of whom were old and crusty. 

Imagine my surprise when Adam Sandler's younger brother (by all appearances- buzzed brown hair, puppy dog eyes, quick dry humor, conspiratorial smile, slight almost-athletic build, easy loping gait, relaxed demeanor) led me into the radiation simulation room... and stayed.  And started explaining things to me.

I had been joking around with him on the way in, like we were on our way to the pub for a beer and fully expected him to check my blood pressure or ask me my name and birthdate and then leave me with a stoic-but-pleasant middle aged woman in a white robe.  

Gradually, as he continues explaining the procedure to me, I realize that I will soon be lying on my back with my arms stretched overhead, with my no-longer-quite-twins smiling right up at - this guy.

What I didn't realize is that he would also be taking a series, no, make that several series of pictures as well, during various stages of the set-up.  Including one of my face, that was surely tuna sushi pink by then.

While tattooing me, he regaled me with a story of how he met a girl in a bar once who was bragging about being a tattoo artist.  Until he suggested that he probably gave more tattoos in a day than she did in a week.  

He then issued a challenge to my DH, who I suggested might be interested in checking out my tattoos later:  

"First, he has to find them,"  He grins, "that can be a challenge."

No shit, I have freckles bigger than those specks, pal.

"Then, he has to figure out what each of them is..."  His grin widens mischievously, "each one is a different picture, you know!"

Then he points, (graciously not touching when it's not actually necessary) "See, right here I made a four leaf clover, and over here is a dolphin, and right here..." he pauses...

Is he pausing for comedic effect, is he drawing a blank, or is he trying to remember what I said ten minutes ago that I might consider getting if I had to pick a tattoo right now?

"THIS one... you won't believe it." Now he's grinning with his eyes.  "Whaddya think this one is, you'll never guess!?!"

Okay, I'll feed him his line.  "A yinyang?"  I'm SUCH a good sport.

"YES!  That's EXACTLY what it is, a yinyang - right there!"

Well, after that sweet attempt at humoring me, how could I complain several minutes later when my hands (somewhere over my head, I think that's where I left them) started turning into bear paws - huge and swollen with little bees stinging them... 

"... the important thing is to just relax, remain very still, don't move anything!"

oh shit I can't even FEEL my fingers anymore let alone wiggle them.

Did you ever wake up in the middle of the night wondering what the heck that big heavy thing was that was stuck under your pillow?  Eww!  Who's hand is that?  Double ewww - it's MINE, and it's dead!  Then you have to use your other hand to extract it and drag and drop it onto your chest, massaging it until the blood comes and chases all the needles away?

Well, both my hands felt like that for about 10 minutes until somehow my blood found it's way up there again.  Whew!  I would hate to have wimped out.

Soon afterward it was all over.  A few days later my mold and I were introduced to the radiation room itself.  

How anti-climatic!  No mushroom clouds or rayguns.  Just a big machine that rotates around and whistles.  or hums.  whatever.

They tell me after a week or two I will begin to realize that it's actually doing something, but so far I am blissfully unaffected by the vibes.   Oh, and I'm getting used to Sandler's little brother, too.