Wednesday, June 28, 2006

The Tattooed Lady

About a week ago I went for a 'simulation' session for my Radiotherapy. The wait for this session was nothing compared to the Breast Clinic or Chemotherapy, and apparently (!) the Radio sessions themselves are usually on time.

I was given yet another fashionable top to wear: this one with press studs down the front and across the shoulders... except that one of the press studs on the shoulders didn't work, so it kept on flapping open at inopportune moments.

So, I lay on the couch, a foam pyramid under my knees. My left arm was laid on arm supports above my head, and my right arm by my side. And there I lay for the next 40 minutes or so, while they poked, prodded, moved me slightly, raised and lowered and moved the couch, and measured me in great detail.

The measurements were done mainly using a metal ruler which clamped onto the machinery. Either side of the ruler were two magnetic prongs ('don't worry, they won't go into you, they'll fall off if they press too hard'). Lasers shone lights across me, and seemingly random marks were drawn on me.

Finally, I was tattooed! Two small black dots either side of my breast to show the radiographers how to position me for my treatment. No, they don't do requests; I couldn't have 'Lucy loves Paul' tattooed across my chest. And apparently the Radiotherapy doesn't give me superpowers either. Shame.


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