Peggy Lee Was Here

Two down:  twenty-eight to go.

The experience of being radiated is about as stress-free as a cancer treatment could possibly be.  I check in by scanning my UPC-coded appointment card (hereafter, the EZ-pass), which indicates to the team that I am in the waiting room (and displays to me whether Unit 10 -- of the 18 treatment rooms, that one will be mine throughout -- is running on time), and sit.  But not for long;  I'm called within five minutes.

After changing into the ubiquitous gown (stripped from the waist up only), I'm accompanied directly to the Unit.  Right arm out of right sleeve, I lie down on the bed of the linear accelerator, with my head at the business end.  The bed is set up exactly as it was for my CT scan -- bolster at my hips, right arm supports above my right shoulder.  The team (two technicians and a student) call out and confirm coordinates, positioning me so that the tattoos and the laser beams all line up the way they should.  When everything's in place, they leave me.  It's only then that I notice music is playing -- agreeable, recognizable music, rather than the tinkly water-over-rocks nonsense:  it's not a spa, after all.

As they watch me on the monitors outside the Unit, the head of the accelerator (which is within a foot of me) rotates from its default position above me to a position to the right and below my right breast -- so the beam will shoot through the right side of my breast and avoid my rib cage and its contents.  A couple of clicks and a little whirring noise indicate that the apperture is open and positioned, and a few seconds of buzzing later, the head swings way over to the left -- the better to go at me from the other side.  The same noises repeat in sequence, then the "On the Air" sign clicks off, and the worker bees swarm in to undo all their careful positioning, only to do it all again tomorrow.

The gown reinstalled, it's off to the change room.  A flat twenty minutes after swiping my card, I'm back in the waiting room.  If that's all there is, my friend, then let's keep dancing.