Despite my bravado, I went to bed last night slightly anxious as to what lay in store for me today.
I didn’t sleep very well, and when I did it was a load of garbled rubbish intermingled with pain in my knee and a sudden drop in temperature to minus 6. Maggie got cold and snuggled into me, yet Hubby was frantically mopping me with a towel as I was in mid hot flush, so I guess the ‘menopause in a box’ medication is doing its stuff.
I woke up feeling sick and headachy with nerves!
After an initial chat on arrival to make sure they had the right person to radiate on the right part of the body, I was given my personal clocking in card and a car parking pass. Hubby couldn’t come any further with me and so went back to the waiting area as I was led deeper into the bowels of the radiology corridors.
The linear accelerator greeted me with open arms sotospeak and the two young radiologists were lovely.
I was lined up neatly with my tattoo freckles and images taken for superimposing on those from my CT scan a couple of weeks ago.
Something wasn’t quite right though and I had to be turned slightly and redotted, so my friends have now taken to calling me Dotty as opposed to Mrs Skinny Person (thanks guys).
The machine whirred, rattled and hummed as George Michael drifted across the speakers and I asked if I would have to listen to his greatest hits for the duration of my time.
Luckily for me it was the radio, not a CD, so I had to be careful not to start singing or tapping my foot to some of my favourite oldies.
It’s not uncomfortable lying there with my arms above my head though as that’s how I sleep sometimes.
Once in the correct position, it was only a couple of minutes of zapping time.
As the machine rotated away, it revealed a little picture on the ceiling. It was a cartoon of a vegetable plot, with 9 sweetcorn ears, 18 tomatoes, 2 pumpkins and half a dozen lettuces. I’ve asked for Hugh Jackman next week.