space mountain

if you've ever been to disney world, then perhaps you've experienced space mountain.

the deeper you go in the cancer world, the closer you get there.

on mapping day, required before radiation treatment begins, the godfather and i arrived at massey cancer center,  where we'd been before,  from there,  we went to dalton oncology unit, where we'd been before, and from there, after a series of long and windowless maze like hallways,  we arrived at space mountain, the radiation oncology unit.

talk about time travel.

the mapping involved being positioned on a long rolling track, which would then slide in and out of a massive NASA grade donut type cat scan machine.

after strange though painless plastic coated wires were placed around the incision sites, the track i was laying on was rolled into the donut.

the lab techs said ok.  we're stepping out now.  but you'll be okay in here.  we'll be able to hear you if you need us.  we'll be over there, working from the computer.

more sci fi.

 blue lights inside the cylinder began whirling around so fast, they spun into themselves, like lasers rounding a drain.

if you closed your eyes, it was easier.  so i did.

when i opened them, i was still in space mountain, lights still spinning, though the rolling track i was on hadn't moved.  so much movement around me, though i was directed to stay still.

my rolling track might as well have rolled right into opposite-ville station.

after a while, the techs came in, rolled me out, then back in again.

they asked, how are you doing?

i said fine i guess.

how was i supposed to know?

in and out. laser lights galore.

after the final light show, they knew where to 'mark the field.'

this meant radiation tattoos.

not one.  but two.

i had no say in placement, design, wording, anything.

how's that for the opposite of bad ass?

my tattoo virginity was taken without my say.  

i'd toyed with the idea of one or two over the years.

where would i put it, what would it be?

who knew?  not me.

xx katy