by wjw on November 23, 2023
Here’s the machine I visit most mornings to get zapped with x-rays. (I’ve had nine treatments so far, seventeen to go.) I lie on the gurney-thingie in the lower right, and am rolled more less into the middle of the array, after which I am orbited by scanners and projectors and some things which I haven’t worked out yet. (Most of them aren’t visible in this photo.) The procedure is short, painless, and rather dull. After which I usually have lunch in a local restaurant, then make the hour-long drive home.
Mr. Zappy looks rather jocular for a thing whose job is to irradiate my innards. I think he may have tried out for the job of emoji, but didn’t make the cut. Nevertheless I have developed an affection for the critter, since he’s the only amusing thing in the joint.
Spending time in the arms of a grinning android inclines me to meditation, and what with the Thanksgiving holiday growing nigh, I’ve been calling to mind the things for which I’m grateful, and there turns out to be a lot. Including, odd as it may seem, my health.
But mostly I’m thankful for my friends. Seeing so many at WFC, after the pause of years, was a boost. So was the Ten-Day Birthday Carouse. So was hearing from so many friends on social media.
We’ll be spending the holiday with friends to help us eat the sacrificial turkey, and I hope you will as well. I’ve just finished making the Heart-Attack Stuffing, so that when we go, we can all go together.
Have a great weekend!
by wjw on November 18, 2023
Looking through some boxes I discovered a partial I wrote nearly 50 years ago. My agent sent it back, saying it needed a rethink.
Glancing through it, I’m thinking it’s overwritten.
Which won’t stop me from enjoying reading this message from my younger self.
by wjw on November 14, 2023
Today was my first day of radiation. (25 to go) The machine was very large, but it was in a cavernous room, and when the machine was in operation, the operators scurried away to a control room behind their lead or concrete shields.
The treatment room was called HOPE.
My job was twofold. First, I was to lie down while large, glossy white sub-machines moved around me, like clumsy, slow-moving satellites bumbling around their primary. To make it even more science fiction-y, they were firing x-rays at me as they moved. Being penetrated by beams of highly energetic photons was painless and just a little boring. The whole thing took about 15 minutes.
This, I thought, is how I’d always imagined being abducted by aliens, lying motionless while enigmatic machines floated around me and filled me with rays.
But I mentioned I had a twofold job, right? My other job was not to pee.
They wanted me to have a full bladder, because a heavy bladder sort of anchors other nearby organs and enhances accuracy on the part of the photons. To this end, I slammed down 24 ounces of water on my way to treatment.
But it turns out the machines were backed up, and I spent over an hour in the waiting room trying not to pee. Then I went into the treatment room and tried not to pee while being orbited by elements of a linear accelerator. Then I tried not to pee while I grabbed my stuff and dashed to the nearest toilet.
Reader, it was the longest pee of my life. It seemed to go on for days.
25 to go.
by wjw on November 12, 2023
Glancing through the latest offerings on Netflix, I came to the conclusion that Netflix has more shows and movies about fictional assassins than there ever were real assassins in all history.
by wjw on November 8, 2023
