Bee Gees day job....

Following a night where sleep wasn't really a feature I finished up my hydration and was put on two of the three demo drugs throughout the rest of today. There was a short break for an hour around 2.30pm where I was wheeled down to the dungeon like radiology dept set deep I the bowels of the hospital. I was placed in my nice blue wheelchair in the waiting room where I wittiness a petty harrowing scene where a toddler was put to sleep (I guess to have an MRI scan too) in one of the curtained side rooms next to the waiting area. As you can imagine it was causing the little boys family an enormous about of distress. It just made me put myself I thier shoes and it's not somewhere I ever want to stand.

The waiting room was also a through route to other sections of the department, this meant that I got see the radiology staff going about thier daily duties. Then it hit me, there seems to be an abundance of blokes wondering around in dark blue smocks sporting huge beards and even bigger quaffed hair doo's it was like a Bee Gees tribute band audition was being held somewhere near by. I sat there for some time just watching everyone coming and going. Then one of said Bee Gees sauntered over and in a Kiwi accent announced that it was my turn to head into the scanner room. Grabbing the hadles of the blue wheelchair he pushed me a few doors down into a beige room with a large circular robotic looking machine in the centre. I'd seen this machine before and instantly thought... more Diana Ross!

Stood next to the machine was a tall but portly dude who was sporting the biggest "mud flap" tash I'd ever seen. Was this some kind of radiation protection thing, I wondered... Or was it some kind of code, an inner circle of professionals who identify status and pecking order through the power of thier hair.

I'm laid on a hard metal table and my shoulders are pushed down towards my toes via two sliding metal rods, the back of my head I'd rested in a transparent cradle before the net mask is placed over my face and then bolted down to the table fixing my head and neck tightly in one position. One of the radiographers mentioned that there may have been further shrinkage to the mask during the drying process, they wern't kidding! This thing is tight, to the point where I can't open my eyes or breath through my mouth. Breathing through my nose is shallow at best.

Lead filled pads are placed around my torso and the table is rolled back into the scanner. No Diana Ross this time, instead a local Cornish classical radio station, which is luckily is drowned out by the clunks and bangs of the scanner in operation.

About 20 mins later I emerge from the scanner and the mask is quickly unbolted from the table and removed from my face. The mask is made from a hard kevlar mesh, I sense that due to the masks tigh fit there has been some impression left on my face. A quick glance in a nearby mirror confirms what I'd thought... I looked like a Belgian waffle. I was wheeled back to the ward with people visible smirking at the mesh imprint on my face. It wouldn't be so bad but it dawned on my that I have to do this almost every day for two months!

I return to the ward and I'm hooked back up to the waiting chemo pump. I've been told that there will be a delay to my usual departure time in the morning due to having to have a blood transfusion before I leave. My red blood cell couunt is a bit low from the last round, so they want to boost it back up so im good through the next round.

Looking forward to getting back home, especially since "smoking man" is on the ward again and and is up to his old tricks. He was busted smoking in the toilets on the ward. This time he got a mouthful from all the other patients on the ward, maybe it will have an effect, but I dought it.