Daily Radiation

Yesterday was my mother's funeral. It's been a crazy couple of weeks. We have company from Canada. My sister and her husband are also in town from Fort Worth, Texas. I had to reschedule my ordinary 10:15 appointment for radiation to 7:30 am. People came in early to accomodate me. Radiation has been going well. There isn't much to tell about it. I walk in, punch my name twice on an automated screen, change into an ugly gray extra-large front-tying hospital gown and sit down to wait. Everyone is very prompt. My name is called by a radiation tech. I'm led into a radiation room where I sit on a gurney with leg supports carefully placed. I was taught the first day where to put my seat and how to lay. My hands grasp handles positioned above my head and my toes are taped together. The gurney rises to the proper height. I hold very still while my body is shifted by the techs tugging on the thin blankets beneath me. The x-ray machine is aligned to match my six tattoos. I see red lazer lines pass across my skin. My chest is draped with a white cloth. Then everyone else leaves the room. The machine above me hums in place and rotates to the left, then to the right. In less than five minutes everything is complete. I'm assisted off the table and return to the dressing room. All done! No nausea, no sunburn, no nothing to prove I've been there except stiff shoulder joints and my initials on a schedule. What do you think of that? Hey!!! Only 23 more visits...