Where are your shoes?

Radiation 101

I was directed to the "other" side of the Club today.  Destination Radiation.  I walked back to the desk and the gal told me to go back to the Women's Changing Room.

"I don't know where that is.  I mean, I was shown once, but I didn't take notes and now I can't remember...can you walk me back?"

She walked me all of about 10 steps down the hall.  "Here we are!".  Well that was a little embarrassing.  We walked into a room that sort of looked like a gym locker room, minus the shower.  "Here's your locker.  Take everything off, put this gown on with the opening in the back and...let's see if you have a shelf yet...nope...okay, well, the next time you're here, there will be a shelf with your name on it and that is where you'll put your gown."  She left me standing there with a key in my hand and a look of confusion on my face.  I get a shelf?  Do I have to wear the same gown every day for six weeks?  This gown looks a little small...open in the back...with everything off?  Hmmm-kayyyy.

I took everything, except for my undies, off and put my gown on.  Should it really be this hard to tie the strings?  Why aren't my fingers working?  I ended up with a loopy-knot-half-bow and put my stuff in my locker.  I sat in the little waiting area for my tech to come and get me.

I could hear something going on the other side of the door.  "Three...two...one...deep breath in...and hold."  Then a whirring sort of a hum sound came through.  Seconds passed and then I heard, "And breath."  This repeated twice more and I found myself holding my breath with her.

The door opened and a big tall black man was standing there in blue scrubs.  "Miss Stover?"  I stood up.  It hadn't even crossed my mind that there would be a man on this side of The Club.  "Hi.  Yes.  Me.  Kim."  He looked at me and said in a louder than normal voice, "Where are your shoes?"  

Blink.  Blink.  Blink.

"Um, well she told me to take everything off!"

Horror crossed his face.  Then, as he does the 'Aaron Rodgers Touchdown Move', he says, "Do you have underwear on???"

"YES!!!"  Thank God I thought to leave my underwear on.  Relief came over him...and me...and then he told me to put my shoes back on.  Apparently we had a lot of walking to do.  And apparently, one needs to wear shoes for this sort of thing.  And underwear.  He left me to get my shoes on, for what seemed to be an eternity.  How long did he think that it would take me to put my shoes on?  Did he go and tell the other staff about the crazy woman that stripped down to bare feet?  I decided that I wouldn't make eye contact with anyone once I went through that door.

Finally, he came to get me and as he brought me through the door, he introduced himself as Dave.  Then he says, "and behind you is Brianna".  Ack!  Slightly snug gown open in the back and someone named Brianna is behind me???!!!  I whipped around, made eye contact, then dropped my gaze to the floor.  "Hi."  No eye contact.  No eye contact.

We went into The Room.  Very white.  Very cold.  Dave explained to me that I'd be laying on the table while they made a form fitted mold to my body.  My arms would be up over my head and I was, under no circumstances, to move.  If I had to cough or sneeze, I was just to do it and not cover my mouth.

Everything is electronic, so he had to take lots of pictures.  First, of my face.  Do I smile?  Do I take my hat off?  Do you really need to be that close???

Again, he reminded me not to move.  About three hundred times.  Okay, so not three hundred, but plenty enough to make me feel like they doubted my ability to follow direction.

So we get me all into position on this little skinny table.  I'm cradled in my bean-baggy mold-making-thingy and Dr. Princess comes into the freezing cold room and says, "Hello Miss Stover!"  She's always so chirpy.  She pulls my gown off of my front and says, "You're going to have to help me.  Which scar is from your partial mastectomy?"  I pointed to it with my left hand...and then freaked out.  I moved!  Simon didn't SAY!!!  Was this some sort of weird game that they played here???  Dave told me that if Dr. Princess asks me to move my arm, it's okay.  Whew.  I wasn't going to be ostracized from The Club.  Dr. Princess took a Sharpie marker (apparently an advanced medical instrument at The Club) and drew all over the dang place.  Once I was all marked up, she thanked me for being such a good patient and left.

Dave then taped some wires to me, and some beads (felt like I was a few knots away from a nice piece of jewelry)...then once he was satisfied with his work, he told me that he was going to leave the room, but that he'd be able to see me through the window (I get it...I won't move).  Once the door closed, the table started to move.  I was laying there, with arms over my head, not moving a muscle.  I was being brought through a very narrow tunnel.  It made me feel like I was going on a really cool roller-coaster...you know, at the start when you go into a tunnel, then the lights go out...and then whoosh!  But there was no whoosh.  It moved very slow and I noticed that there was a little orange pattern of lights that were indicating that I was moving "inwards".  At the top of that pattern of lights, there was a little lighted outline of a woman.  It was done like a 5 year old would draw a woman.  Circle for a head, triangle dress body, two legs and two arms.  Except this little woman had her arms up over her head.  That made me laugh (not out-loud...because that would cause movement).  Was this a little reminder to keep my arms over my head?  I could hear whirring, but nothing around me was moving.  Red beams caught the corners of my eyes.  Lots seemed to be going on, but everything in my tight little tube was still.

At this point, I took note at just how clean this white tube was.  Man, what would life be like if I didn't have dogs?  Things would be this sterile at my house.

Next thing I knew, the table was exiting the tube and I was done.  Dave came back in and told me that Dr. Princess was happy with the scan and now we'd do my tattoos.  I asked if he'd be doing butterflies and hearts.  His response was, "No, I do dragons."  Dave was cool.  The tattoos were painless, just a little pin prick.  He thanked me for making his job easy and then took five pictures of my boobs.  I was thinking that I better not see those on the Internet tonight, but chose not to say what I was thinking.

Sometimes I'm smart like that.

I was done.  I got back to the locker room and peeked to see if I had a shelf yet.  No shelf, but looking at all the names there made me feel more in touch with the girls that I was now "Radiation Friends" with.  Diane, Char, Melissa, Tory...lots of others.  I would likely not meet these women, but they were my friends nonetheless.