A Star Wars Light Show…Radiation and What to Expect

 

 

I was paralyzed with fear during my first radiation. The technicians at Sammons Cancer Center had tried to assuage my fears. I just had to holler if anything went wrong. They’d be with me in a nano second. With all that comfort and reassurance finished, they instructed me to undress from the waist up, don my hospital gown and lie down on the table.

 

I complied, and one of the technicians put my mask over my face and bolted my head to the table. I felt like a prisoner about to be executed. The technician flipped the light switch, and I waited. Suddenly a red laser light beam cut through the darkness and something mechanical began to whirr. I scrunched my eyes tight in terror. Through my eyelids I could see the laser light criss crossing the air. It probed my neck, throat and upper chest area, circling my body and returning to the front. I was immobilized and petrified, afraid to breathe, until some part of me remembered: this is the cure. I began to chant rhythmically “Kill it,’ “kill it,” “kill it.” In my mind, I guided the beam, stabbing at the places where the cancer hid.

 

The first treatment was the worst because no one said how long it takes. I called out for a technician. No one answered. I began to relive Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Pit and the Pendulum” where the character is stretched out on a table as the razor sharp pendulum descends in a hissing arc over the center of his body. Suddenly the beam went out. In the near black room, the technician unbolted me from the table. I was freed to dress and go home.  

 

But before I left, my technician pointed to the CD player and said, “Bring whatever you like to listen to.” So the next day I did. And I confirmed that not only is radiation painless, but it lasts for a mere seven tracks on my cd.

 

I had used the previous afternoon to burn the happiest playlist I could manage. A collection of one work wonders plus Jimmy Buffett, the musical “Chicago,” Broadway hit “The Jersey Boys,” anything upbeat and fun.

 

For day two I would fight the insidious disease to the sound of “Hot, Hot, Hot,” “Iko Iko,” “Tub Thumpin’,” “I Played Chicken with a Train” (that seemed appropriate), “Conky Tonkin’,” and “Whip It.” They could keep my head still but not my feet.

 

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