Masque

Today I went in for the new mask.  The old one won't fit my new less-cherubic face.

The mask is used, as those who have followed this saga will recall, to screw my head down to a table while they pull a VW-sized gizmo over me and blast away.  Starts next week, ends  late April, five days a week.  Starts easy.  Ends crappy, if it's like the last time.

The radiation oncologist raised the possibility of chemotherapy as a kind of cherry on the sundae, and I started to get rebellious.  He opined that it was probably not worth the extra "toxicity".  No kidding.

The old mask is in the garage, awaiting a new function. I am thinking of turning it into a birdhouse.