Cocktail Hour

Three radiation days down, twenty-seven to go. In at 8:30 am, out in under an hour. The photo in the link from my last post is pretty close to me - but eventually I will ask my new techs to take one in my own Silence-of-the-Lambs-y mask.

As before, they really do screw your head down to the gurney. But the machinery is different - more like the PET scans - a big-ass white donut into and out of which you slide. Noisier than before, and a different noise. A shakey-grindey noise that circles around you - the raygun, blasting away. Does not sound like a gun, though - a lot more like a bartender with his shaker. A mixologist, as they say, orbiting around your head. My version of a Stinger, Mr. Morgan - I make it with gin...