I started my radiotherapy treatment yesterday. Pretty painless - I felt like I was a character in a pornographic science fiction movie - lying down topless on a strange laser machine with my arms raised. Although my wrists were not chained to the strange machine, they may as well have been as I am NOT ALLOWED TO MOVE whilst treatment is ongoing.
The nurses attending to me are very sweet - that's really the only word for them. I doubt I'll get to know them as well as I got to know nurses A-M and R of the chemo ward as I am in and out in around twenty minutes - and seven minutes of that I am alone in the room whilst the machine whizzes around me. The nurses place me on the machine and manipulate my body to the ideal position. They call out numbers such as "26 - 6.9 - 8.5". I am tempted to surprise them by suddenly giving them the answer, but then I'm not fast enough and they've moved on to the next set by the time I have the solution. Oh well...
As with all things though, I start to hyperventilate once the machines start moving around me. But it will get easier I'm sure. Today, the heavy breathing was not nearly as bad as yesterday's episode. Also, the need to scratch or sneeze, once I had been positioned perfectly, was less evident. One can but hope.
So, two down and another sixteen to go. This had better get easier.
PS. Fleeting crush on Robert Pattinson (see 'A New Me?) has been replaced with a crush on the incredibly beautiful (and altogether very dead) Laurence Olivier. LH doesn't mind these crushes - I suppose it gets the pressure off him.
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