Radiotherapy 1

Firstly (absolutely honestly, truly) they put a CD on while I was having the treatment and the first song was Lady Gaga. Radio. Gaga. Genius.

So, two weeks ago I went in to have my radiotherapy planning – they pop you in a scanner and mark you up with 4 tiny (so tiny I thought they’d forgotten to do one) tattoos that they then use during the radiotherapy to line you up to the exact millimeter to the scanning machine.

And today was the first session proper. I got all weirdly emotional heading into the hospital. I’ve been in and out like a fiddlers elbow for the past 6 months without a care in the world (well, you know…), but I did feel like I was going to burst into tears at one point (that said, it could’ve been thanks to walking along Euston Road in the pouring rain). It hit me out of nowhere to be honest – I wasn’t expecting to get upset at all, but after giving myself a quick talking to I was right as a rainy London afternoon again. I suppose I’ve had 2 weeks without any sort of treatments or appointments, so I’ve had a taste of getting back to normal and then I’m right back in again. Ah well, there’s not a chance I’m repeating sitting in a doctor’s waiting room sniffling away and scaring small children though – especially when everyone else is there for exactly the same reason. I’d look like a right idiot.

Luckily, I get disproportionately excited about new machines and stuff, and this one was ACE. Like actually being in James Bond or Alien or some 80s film about what the future would be like – I lie on a bed in the middle of the room (I don’t even get the ubiquitous blue gowns for this though – just a square of blue paper to attempt to cover my one remaining bit of modesty) and two radiotherapy nurses shuffle me about to line my teeny tiny tats up to the millimetre with lasers (actual lasers) coming out of the walls and ceiling (see, the future…). Then they leg it out the room and leave me lying there being zapped and trying to concentrate on not concentrating on breathing. Which is IMPOSSIBLE.

So one down and 14 to go. Just in time for the Queen’s Jubilee. Maybe Liz and I can have a joint party.