From Craptastic to Zaptastic

     As of right now I have completed my first two of 20 radiation treatments!  Whoo hoo!  My final treatment will be on June 27.  I know these next weeks are going to go by very quickly, and hopefully more painlessly than not.
     Two days in and I feel like an old pro.  After the 30-mile drive to the facility, I park in the special Radiation Oncology Patient parking, put my parking permit on the dashboard, walk through the back door and down two flights of carpeted stairs to the Radiation Oncology Check In.  I give my name to the receptionist, sit down to contemplate the woeful lack of trashy People magazines, and in a moment hear my name over a PA system calling me to report to the Patient Waiting Area.  I walk down a hall to a changing area where I grab a gown, go in a numbered dressing room, take off my clothes and shoes, put on a gown and paper booties, lock my stuff in the room, and slip the key with its coiled bracelet on my wrist.  I walk around the corner to another waiting area--this too lacking in People magazine but full of golf and home décor magazines, with some National Geographics thrown in for good measure. 
     I barely sit my gowned and bootied self down and am called down another hall by smiling radiation technicians.  I lay myself down on the metal tray in my head-and-arm mold that was made during the simulation, arms overhead and hands holding some plastic pegs.  Then the technicians Velcro a band around my feet, put a cushion under my knees, scoot me around, use a remote to scoot the tray around, call numbers and measurements back and forth, adjust my gown opening (after draping me with a small towel for modesty--how sweet--as if I have any left at this point), measure the distance from my chest to my chin, tape my chin in place, and leave the room. 
     Then it's all big spinny-rotating machine noises and green light beams lining up, a couple of regular x-rays to start things off, and then the machine rotates to its calibrated positions (when it's overhead you can see these things like teeth in two metal combs shifting to create various custom openings through which the radiation is delivered to match the size and shape of the tumor at different angles).  Other than that there is nothing to indicate when the radiation itself is actually happening.  They tell me the exposure is only 30 seconds. 



Big spinny IMRT radiation machine.

Metal comb thingies--I mean, the collimator--that make IMRT special.

     But all in all, from the time I am called back to the changing room to the time I'm walking out the door to my car, it's about 15 minutes.  The session yesterday took a little longer with the set up (first time and all, I guess), and also doing the needle-tattoo dots where they painted them on during the simulation.
     I think I will have to limit cannoli rewards to once a week, or I will be throwing the measurements off by the end of the month! 
     Anyway, so far so good.  The beginning is easy peasy mac 'n' cheesy.
     And yes, you may make glow-in-the-dark, Ironman arc reactor, etc. jokes.  Let's have some fun!