Embracing the glow

I am celebrating the joys of modern medicine. Where else can you lie on a table, have highly trained professionals aim invisible beams at you, and be told it’s all for your own good? I’ve officially embarked on my thrilling journey into the world of brachytherapy and radiation treatment. It’s like getting superpowers, except instead of flight or laser vision, I get… well, mostly fatigue and an excuse to sit down a lot.

Step One: Becoming Radioactive (But Not in the Cool Way)

On February 25th, I will be having HDR Brachytherapy. For those not in the know, is a procedure where you get to lay in stirrups, completely sedated, in front of people one doesn't even know. I my past life, this would have cost me at least a dinner and a few drinks. But now.... For those not in the know, tiny radioactive seeds are implanted directly into my prostate through straw-like (God I hope they are not made of paper) entities. They leave those particles in for a little while, and then remove them. The idea is to kill that tumor f^&%$r. . Think of it as a very aggressive gardener planting little nuclear daisies, all with the noble goal of giving my rebellious cancer cells a rather stern talking-to.

I imagine that the process itself will be as delightful as one might imagine. Lying on an operating table, surrounded by people in lead aprons (always reassuring), Eagle spread, hoping I won't fart when the stick is in my butt, I found myself reflecting on life’s choices. Meanwhile, a doctor carefully implanted the seeds, ensuring I was one step closer to becoming the human embodiment of a low-wattage nightlight.

The Joys of External Beam Radiation Therapy
As if my insides weren’t already getting their fair share of the radioactive treatment, I also get to experience external beam radiation. Five days a week, I will lie down while a futuristic machine hums menacingly and zaps me with precise amounts of energy. It’s like being in a sci-fi movie, except instead of battling aliens, I’m just hoping not to get stuck in traffic on the way home. I hope that's the case and that the Ontario Government has invested to upgrade the technology to be reflective of 20th century capabilities. I just hope that Marie Curie wouldn't recognize the vintage.
In my mind, the technicians, to their credit, will always in good spirits—probably because they get to step out of the room while I absorb the brunt of the radiation. I’m sure it’s nothing personal.

Side Effects? What Side Effects?
Ah yes, the small print. So far, I’ve been promised an exciting grab bag of possible side effects. Fatigue? Check. Changes in bathroom habits? Also check. A newfound appreciation for the placement of public restrooms? Absolutely.

On the plus side, I now have a built-in excuse for forgetting things, missing chores, or simply deciding I’d rather not do something. “Oh, I’d love to take out the trash, but you know… radiation.” The possibilities are endless.

The Bright Side (No, Not the One from the Radiation)
All sarcasm aside, I’m grateful for the advances in medical technology that allow me to fight this battle with a high chance of success. I hope that the doctors and nurses are skilled, professional, and shockingly cheerful for people whose job involves zapping people with controlled energy for a living.

So here I am, glowing with gratitude (and possibly other things), taking it all one step at a time. If nothing else, this experience has given me a fresh perspective on resilience, humor, and the sheer absurdity of human existence, and the realization that modesty is highly overrated.

And hey, if this all ends with me developing actual superpowers, I’ll be sure to let you know.