Target Practice: the Sequel

Hospital waiting rooms are never the most inspiring places. As I waited for my turn, I looked at the posters on the wall. Several people have told me that when they were diagnosed, they felt detached from their cancer - it wasn't them. To some extent, I've felt the same. Today, the posters in the treatment centre clarified that feeling; the person with cancer isn't me. That person's gone. Now, I'm just making sure she doesn't come back.

To think about a person in terms of their cancer is something we all do, it seems. My advice, now? Don't do it. The cancer is just an unwelcome guest. It can be life-threatening, but it isn't something that defines someone. And it really isn't something to be scared of - it's a nuisance, that's all.

Eventually, a radiographer interrupted my musings and I was taken to the treatment room where today's procedure was explained to me. I was to have my photograph taken so that they know that they're giving me the right treatment when the therapy starts. (That's a bit scary - what did they do before digital cameras were available??) After some discussion about where the photo would be stored and whether it would end up in a centralised database - apparently not - I signed the consent form. I then had to stand beside my patient number and have a mugshot taken. I saw it afterwards. It wasn't attractive! The whole procedure was something like the scenes in police dramas where criminals are photographed. At least I didn't have my fingerprints or DNA taken.

Next, it was time for the CT scan. Now, I've never had one of these, so it was an interesting experience. You lie on a bed, having been artistically arranged there by the medical staff; my arms were positioned so that my hands were crossed on my chest, which was all a bit symbolic and disturbing! The bed moves up and through a ring - the scanner. The medical team runs out of the room very fast at this point and you lie extremely still while the bed moves through the ring. The whole procedure is totally painless, though the bed is rather hard and you have to put your feet into indentations in a moulded block to ensure you're in the right place.

Eventually, someone comes back to announce that the scan has finished and that it's time for your tattoos. You'd think that since I'm used to acupuncture, a tiny, pinprick-sized tattoo would be no problem, wouldn't you? Not so. However, I'm now the proud possessor of three - one on each hip and one on my abdomen and am ready to be the bullseye. I am, however, now reconsidering whether I'll have the tattoos developed further!

So, no more appointments for 8 days, with the treatment beginning on 16th February after a second scanning session the day before. I think I'll be taking advantage of the opportunity to take walks and generally improve my fitness between now and then. All I need to do is find some Nordic walking poles.