Wednesday was Radiation Day. They picked me up by wheelchair at 10 am and took me to the basement of the old hospital. The hospital has two linear accelerators that are used for total body irradiation (TBI). I was to get a single dose of 200 cGy (200 centigrays which is an amount of radiation absorbed into the body). The doctors told me that 200 cGy is not a lot of radiation but that this is the most that one would get at one sitting. Usually, patients receive 1500 cGy spread out over 150 cGy per session.
All I could say was the night before the radiation, I was having nightmares about Nagasaki and Hiroshima. I was thinking about the guy standing there and then the nuclear storm hits him, his eyes bulge out, his hair flies off his head, you see his skeleton and then it instantly turns into a pile of dust. Well enough of negative visualization. No World War II re-enactments.
For the radiation, I was to lay on first my right side for 20 minutes and then on my left side for 20 minutes. First they laid me down on the table and measured the distances of my head, throat, chest, stomach, knee and feet to the machine since they had calculated how far I must be to receive an even amount of radiation over my body. I was very surprised to see the technicians measuring me with a regular tape measure. Where are the laser measuring devices to make sure they are getting the correct distance. I am an engineer and I like precision measurements especially when it means possibly burning off my nose or ear. The technician informed me that exact measurements are not needed!
Next they taped small computer chips to several locations on my body (head, neck, chest, stomach, knee and foot) using standard masking tape. They said this was to measure the amount of radiation I would receive at each point and verify that I was getting an even dosage. I said that's cool that these chips are real-time and can tell you how much radiation I was getting as the machine was operating and they adjust the dosage strength as needed. The technician said that the measuring devices told them how much radiation I received after I was finished. So I guess if I happened to receive too much radiation on my knee, they just go "Oh well, I'll guess we'll try to do it better next time". I was not very happy with the archaic, 1950's looking technology that I was going to receive.
Finally, the technicians got me in the correct position on my right side and then they put at least 20 hospital blankets on top of me for protection. Using the masking tape, they taped a clear plexiglass sheet to the table covering my face to the machine. The plexiglass fell a few times before they put enough tape on it to hold it. Again, high tech operations.
The three technicians then ran out of the room and said that they can see me on the monitor in the next room and if I had any problems, to raise my hand. They put on some Santana music to help me relax. They bolted the door and then I said a prayer that I would survive this. A red light started blinking and the machine buzzed. I felt the hairs on my chest were moving or was it my skin burning off. I was not sure if I should have my eyes open since I was looking directly at the machine 6 ft away, so I kept my eyes shut and prayed and thought positive fun images I have experienced in my life. The Santana music playing helped since I knew it would be over in about 4 to 5 songs.
The technician counted down 15 minutes left, 10, 5 and 2 minutes left. Those last 2 minutes felt like 2 hours. My shoulder was hurting bad and I wanted to be able to move it. The buzzing finally stopped, the red light shut off, the door unlocked and the three technicians ran in to see if I was still alive. Luckily, I did not feel any different. They proceeded to move the monitoring devices taped to my hairy chest and stomach and gave me a nice waxing with the masking tape. I was turned over to my left side, the stack of hospital blankets was lowered on top of me. The three technicians ran out of the room like mice, locked the 6 inch thick steel and concrete door and the buzzing and red lights started up again. Santana was cranking in the background with some good bass (they must have a good speaker system). I did not feel anything this time (I guess I do not have any hair to buzz on my back) and just laid there and relaxed.
I thought 5 minutes had passed but the technician did not say anything. Then I for sure thought 10 minutes and then 15 minutes had passed but no word from the technician on the status of my stay. I knew it was raining very hard outside and we were in the basement. Maybe the basement had been flooded and everyone was evacuated or what if a group of heavily armed terrorists had overtaken the radiation department looking to steal some plutonium for their warhead. The radiation department was a ghost town but I was still laying here getting pumulted with radiation from this linear accelerator. It must be 20 minutes now! Why has no one told me how much time is left? Is there anyone out there? Am I all by myself? I started to scream help in my head. HELP! Would I be burned to a crisp, where is everyone? I thought about getting up and running for the door which was blocked from the radiation shower. Finally, the buzzing stopped, the red light shut off, the door unbolted and the three mice scurried in yelling, "You are all done!" I could not wait to get out of that room!
The only effect from the radiation was that my nose was very dry. I did not start heaving or feel sick to my stomach which my doctor told me was a possible side effect. Luckily for the rest of the day, I did not have any side effects. Thank God! I survived my radiation!
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