Demented Bees

Radiation was quite an adventure yesterday. The short version: post-holiday clogs and computer glitches put the RadOnc office two hours behind. Eventually, I had my first treatment, which sounds like a hive of demented bees. Everything looks fine.

The long version: After 90 minutes of Fox News in the outer waiting room, I was brought into the inner waiting room. The inner room is only for patients, where we all sport our super-fashionable hospital gowns. Sarah1 came to fetch me, and brought me back to the treatment room, where we were joined by Sarah2 and Angela-the-student. I lay down on the table, where they promptly pulled my gown down to my waist(worn with the opening to the back, to 'preserve my dignity'). At last week's visit, they made a hard mold of me from the top of my shoulders up. The Sarahs maneuvered me into my mold, pulling my arms up and over my head and wrapping my hands around a T-bar. My pecs still haven't quite stretched out after the surgery, and last week doing the CT scan, I tore some of the internal stitches holding my pecs to the 'skin pouch' Dr. L put into my right breast. Unfortunately, all that means holding the position the Sarahs wanted was awfully uncomfortable. At this visit, the Sarahs took several X-Rays to make sure my actual body matched up with the CT scan from last week. They had computer problems, and kept coming in and out trying to solve them. I finally gave in after about 15 minutes and asked if I could put my arms down for a minute. Sarah2 said, 'Sure! But you'll have to start all over again.' I started reciting the "O for a muse of fire..." speech to keep myself distracted (thanks, Peter!). Finally, they had the X-Rays they needed, Dr. I approved them, and I was good to go. Except they needed to tattoo small locating dots at various places on my chest, so I had to keep my arms in place...but first, I got a break. I've never been more relieved to curl up into a fetal position.

So, I understand technical difficulties, and I understand scheduling snafus. What makes me crazy, though, is the 'furniture attitude' of the techs. Five different techs went in and out of my room, where I was lying half naked, blind without my glasses, hurting and freezing cold. None of them bothered to talk to me, to let me know what was going on, or to acknowledge my presence. If two techs entered together, they muttered to each other, without including me in the conversation. Treat me like a human being, please. I make a rotten chair.

To be fair, Dr I pulled me into his office after the whole thing to check me over, and to 'personally apologize' for the wait. I shrugged in response (the compromise between understanding, and being angry over the techs' treatment of me). Dr I said, 'look, you've been through enough already. You don't need this shit'.

He is absolutely right. I don't.