I was sitting in the changing room at radiation waiting to get the simulation of my leg. This was right before I was about to begin my 33 days of radiation. I had just changed into yet another fabulous hospital gown and had just sat in the little waiting area. I was sitting, watching the TV with a woman when another lady waltzed in and proceeded to sit near us.
The two other ladies began talking about their lives and why they were there. I just sat there watching the TV until the one lady mentioned that she was back for more radiation. Then she went into this long rant in which she proclaimed, “I refused the chemotherapy. That rat poison they put in your veins will kill you faster than the cancer itself.”
At this point in my treatment I had just had surgery after going through 4 rounds of inpatient chemo. My hair was just starting to grow back. If you took one look at me you would realize that I had, “not refused the chemotherapy.” I had done everything my doctors had told me to do, and there was no way I was refusing anything they were telling me to do. Well, except that one time my oncologist suggested that I put a huge bell on my walker for decoration. Between my bald head and the walker, I was already getting enough sympathetic looks from strangers at the hospital. Especially when I walked by the large lab at the hospital where everyone sits outside waiting for his or her magic number to be called. If only I was wearing a top hat and singing “Putting on the Ritz” then it would have been more bizarre.
That woman in the waiting room kept talking about how chemo was poison and how horrible it was for our bodies. I swear if we had a little soapbox for her to stand on she would have been handing flyers to everyone as they walked by proclaiming her message. I just sat there looking out the doorway hoping that one of the ladies would come and get me. Right before I went to get my simulation the other lady who wasn’t on a rant took one look at me and said, “Well you obviously didn’t refuse the chemo.” I wanted to turn to both of them and say, “No shit Sherlock and if you wouldn’t mind that rat poison you were ranting about helped to kill 65% of the tumor in my leg before it was removed.” Thankfully, I just nodded and continued to pretend to watch the TV.
Thank God someone finally came and got me to do my simulation. I spent the next half hour lying on my side as they created the mold for my leg and placed various stickers all over my leg. There is nothing more exciting than being told not to move while lying on your side. The beanbag mold they were making around my leg didn’t help with the whole not moving part. I would later find out that if you even move a hair while lying on the table before getting radiated they know. It wasn’t until after I got my three tiny tattoos on the bottom of my leg that I was able to go. I never saw those two ladies again when I went for my radiation treatments.