YMMV

Your mileage may vary. Some days, my wait at the radiation clinic is 15 minutes. Some days, it's an hour and 15 minutes. After 3 days, I've learned that the number of machines with delays -- which is posted at the radiation reception desk (each of the radiation machines has a number -- this week I'm assigned to # 242) -- that number is directly related to how long I can expect to wait. Today, 3 of them were experiencing delays, so I waited over an hour.

This gave me more than enough time to finish reading my mystery, Murder in Little Italy, which is part of the Gaslight Mystery Series, set in turn of the century NYC. (Note to self: stock up on plenty of reading material , knitting, and DVDs for the next 5 weeks.) I've read 6 of the 11 books in the series now and think I'm about done with them. Next!

After I finished the book, I flipped through a recent issue of Time Out New York that was in the waiting area, and then worked on another baby sweater (I also think I need a break from the Little Bubbles patterns) and I still had more time to kill.

Finally they called me, and I went and changed into the hospital gown and put my stuff into a locker (you get a key when you check in at the reception desk) in the women's dressing room. After changing, you wait in a separate area on the other side of the dressing room.

Then, they call you (me) into one of the treatment rooms, where the coed team uses the tattoos to position me on my back on a mechanized table with 4 open half-cuffs to hold your arms above your head. Since I have to take off half of the hospital gown, I feel like I'm in training for some bondage session (!) and stare studiously at the stickers on the radiation machine.

Once the radiation team has me positioned to their satisfaction, they leave the room and the table moves me towards the machine. My description is woefully lacking, I know, so if you want to see what the gigantic zapping machines look like, check out this page.

The machine then zaps me from 2 different positions in its rotation, lasting altogether 2 minutes tops. It's completely painless, so the hardest part is keeping absolutely still (besides breathing, of course) while I am shuffled back and forth on the table like an item on a conveyor belt, all while being half topless. (There is very little dignity when you are a patient, no matter how considerate the caregivers are, and they are very nice at Sloan. I mean, it's hard to maintain your dignity when you're semi-dressed and lying down while everyone else is completely dressed and walking around.)

Once zapped (well, twice, actually) I am then free to leave, so I change back into street clothes in the dressing room. (Another note to self: either always wear separates, or bring shorts if wearing a dress.)

My commute elsewhere -- to meet friends or go home -- is ironically much slower than my commute TO the hospital on the hell-for-leather express bus: that $5.50 fare is really worth it because I get up from my office to the hospital front entrance in 20 minutes. That's impressive for Manhattan, trust me. (Yes, this means I bolt from the office every day at 4pm, to get on the x90 express bus at 4:20 to get to my 4:50 appointments.)

Speaking of commutes, I'd better get to bed, but I guess I should explain this odd assortment of photos first:

The top one is around dusk at one of the parks we visited during my trip to Seattle. That bright disk is actually the moon, not the sun. Margaret's husband taught us womenfolk the fine art of skipping stones that evening. (Hi, Andrew!)

The middle one amused me at the cavernous QFC supermarket near Margaret. (I have to admit that I was wildly envious of the vast selection AND reasonable prices available there -- Manhattan being the space constrained place that it is, neither selection nor price are particularly great: they may be sigh-inducing, but not in a GOOD way.)

And the final one is of a Powerpuff Girl popsicle Margaret found when I was visiting. Bubbles' eyes are a bit disturbing, doncha think? (Yes, they were sold out of Buttercup. Click on the link if you want to see an "interview" with our hardcore heroine.)

Okay, 3 zaptastic radiation sessions down -- 26 more to go!