ruminations on all things radiological

here is a bird's-eye view of my new hair. it is much thinner than it used to be but i don't think it is quite finished growing in yet. also, it is straight. many think it is not quite long enough to begin curling. i'm not sure what i believe. all i know is i love my new hair. i don't think i would ever tire of mindlessly rubbing my hands on it. it is soft like a baby's hair, not rough and scruffy like it was when i first buzzed it back around thanksgiving. the good news is the radiation won't make my hair fall out. the bad news is the chemo will. again. this was just about the worst part of the first round of chemo. it is hard to put into words why it is so hard to deal with. i think one's hair is a substantial part of who they are. whether right or wrong, it is one of the first things anyone sees when they look at you. and when you don't have it, you realize it isn't that big of a deal, and it isn't so bad not having it. but the process of losing it is the worst. maybe it won't all disappear this time but i am thinking i'll ring in summer bald as the day is long. or something like that.

here are my tatoos. they have been drawn over with a sharpee marker to make them easier to see in the low light of the radiation room. there are three others, one above my belly button and one under each arm. today i learned why they are so useful. as i lay on the table, or "couch" as the technician referred to it, which is funny because there is nothing couch-y about it, said technician made slight adjustments to the positioning of the table and me upon it in order to get me all set up for radiation. they will do this each time i go. it takes about ten minutes or so, usually, but today took longer. using lasers (no sharks, unfortunately) they line me up and get me into the same exact position each time so i receive the radiation to all the right places. hospital gowns are drafty and of course it is freezing in there. so it is all i can do not to shiver, and therefore move, and therefore mess up all the hard work. i try to think warm thoughts but it just doesn't cut it. the whole event will take about 25 minutes each day - my treatments are "long" ones at about 10 or 15 minutes. apparently there is a fair amount of waiting because people are just lining up for radiation therapy these days. it is all the rage. believe me.

i don't think there is a person out there who enjoys a commute like the one i endure to and from penn. beginning today i get to make the joyous slog every day, monday through friday. i am more than willing to go through with it, because the ultimate outcome is that my cancer will be gone (positive thinking, always). i am willing to brave the horrible drivers, many of whom i'm almost certain do not actually have licenses in their possession. i am willing to brave the rush hour traffic, but i cannot figure out why there is still rush hour traffic on the road just about any time i am on it. i am willing to brave the merging, cutting off, exiting, and other adrenaline pumping activities because it is the most convenient way to get to the hospital. and really, after a couple of weeks of treatments i'll be too tired to drive myself - all i'll have to do is nap as mom, dad or jim takes the wheel. sweet.

ah, you stupid cancer, you have no idea what's coming. microscopic or not, i'm done with you.