I am calibrated. I spent yesterday, a chunk of it, becoming so. I was laid on a table under a machine and some laser lights.
It sounds spooky to a lot of people, but I was rather comforted by it. Here I was, in the cradle of the result of 2,500 years worth of work, knowledge, development. And I like machines, too, so I kept thinking how cool that big machine was, and wondering how it worked.
All of this effort was, it seems, in order that a couple of nurses could draw lines on me with a Sharpie marker. Then they put tape over these marks so they won’t rub off. I am told to shower without scrubbing them. They have to be there, exactly there. So I am trying to figure out how to do this.
It starts tomorrow: chemo and radiation. Very thrilling (in a mechanical way) to have your day planned for you by your body’s needs like this. Today, I wander around and pretend I’m still a regular person.
Playing: Holes to Heaven from the album “On and On” by Jack Johnson
white pebble 