Every day… every day, Monday to Friday. That’s when radiation happens. E-V-E-R-Y day! It’s not particularly eventful. I lie on a cold sterile table, looking up at the ceiling. I have the same view, every day.
Above me is a stain glass panel, different shades of blue that I guess are meant to look like the sky. And directly above, attached to the ceiling, is the box that points lasers at me. The lasers are used to measure the depth and area that the radiation will hit.
Every morning, the lovely technicians line me up with the lasers and spout numbers and acronyms that I don’t quite yet understand. Sometimes I don’t hear them very well as the noise of the machines drowns out their voices. Nevertheless, everyday we go through the exact same routine, with the exact same tone in their voices. The lovely technicians remind me of flight attendants; using the same rhythm in their voices that I guess are meant to be consistent so the patient always knows what is coming next.
And then of course there is the snorkel. The snorkel is what I breathe through. It makes me hold my breath at exactly the right point so that my chest is expanded exactly the same every time the radiation hits me. The goal is to avoid my heart, but unfortunately because of my anatomy, this is not entirely possible… so my heart is being hit with radiation. Possible heart disease in the future, that is the risk. Lovely, now I have cancer and heart disease to worry about.
Cancer is so much fun, did you know? I love it! But that’s ok because I found this to remind me of my true nature and self!
I love it! It applies to my entire existence!