Men, listen up

You say it's your birthday.......It's my birthday, too, yeah! (Beetles - Birthday!)

Yes, today is my birthday.  Now, I'm not saying this to solicit birthday wishes - most of you won't read this until tomorrow, anyway.

For 59 years I have walked the surface of this planet, and for 58 years I mocked sickness and disease - it would never catch me.  I boasted that I had never spent a night in the hospital, except for maybe my very first night.  

I was blessed with good health. I was the guy that would rarely ever get sick, and when I did, I would recover faster than anyone.  When I left my company job to start a new life in Southern Illinois - semi retired, as a handyman, I looked at the cost of health insurance and rejected the whole idea as a waste of money.  

I saw how much money our company spent on health insurance for our employees, and on me alone.  In eleven years, I had only seen a doctor once, for a complete physical, yet the company paid for it every month.  I couldn't justify it.

Kathie begged me to get insurance.  Why should I?  I never go to the doctor anyway.  This, I realize now, is the flaw in my thinking.

A lot of guys, in general, think this same way.  Even if they have insurance, they only see a doctor when they absolutely have to - typically brought on by the constant "encouraging" of their significant other.

Who knows if I had been seeing a doctor for even annual check ups, if this might have been detected sooner.  I can 't help but think that if I had a regular relationship with my doctor, they would have sensed that, when my July MRI came back showing an "inflammation" of the infraorbital nerve, it was something that should be addressed immediately.

My team of doctors did everything that I would allow them to do, to diagnose this problem.  The truth is, I thought it would go away like every other ailment in my life.  Dr. Lawler said to me when reviewing the July MRI, "If you came in here demanding that we find out what it is, I have a battery of tests to perform.  But, if you want to wait and see, which you indicated you do, we can review again in 90 days."  I opted to wait and see.  All I could think of was, "How much is this going to cost me?"

Cost doesn't always come in dollars and cents.  What will this cost me in the long run?  The vision in my left eye? Probably.  That's not the worst thing in the world, but how will that effect my ability to work?  I love being a remodeling contractor.  If I can't do that, what will I do?

It's too early, and I'm way too optimistic to start thinking that I will make anything short of a full recovery.  If I can speak to the guys that might read this and think the same way that I have, I would say to get a doctor that you can build a relationship with, and get regular check ups.  I'll leave it at that.

Today was treatment #4.  Everyday, it is the same routine of check in, then we are escorted back to the treatment room - mine appears to be room #4.  The Technicians swipe our badge, then ask us to get up on the table.  The table is very narrow, maybe 14 inches wide.  The headrest is even smaller, maybe 3 or 4 inches wide.  

The trick is to lay on the table in the exact position that I was in when they did the original CT Simulation scan.  Everyday, I joke with the techs that we are going to get it the first try.  They lock the mask in place, and take an X-ray.  This X-ray is compared to the position that the planning program used from the CT Sim.  Invariably, they come in and grab ahold of the sheet I'm laying on, give it a tug in one direction or the other to change my position.  They take another X-ray, and repeat the process until it is in perfect alignment.

You might remember from when I did my CT Simulation, that I fell asleep, or at least dozed off a couple of times.  Well, it appears that my mouth was open during the CT Sim.  So now, everyday they tell me to open my mouth slightly when they are doing the alignment.

My treatment uses two positions of the proton delivery apparatus.  I don't know what it is called - I'll have to find out.  They set it in the first position, and leave the room.

They play classic rock to break the silence of the room, and today, we were about half way through Journey's "Don't stop believing" when the blue flashing light starting flashing, indicating that the protons were flowing.  This lasted all of the way through Fleetwood Mac's "Don't stop thinking about tomorrow", when the blue flashing light stopped.  

The techs entered the room and adjusted the apparatus to the second position and left the room.  The blue flashing light began at the start of Billy Joel's "Uptown Girl" and finished about 30 seconds (the intro guitar riff) into AC/DC's "Back in Black".

So, with the help of Google, I estimate that the first position treatment lasted about 5 minutes 43 seconds, and the second position lasted about 4 minutes even.  

There is a peculiar smell that emits while the protons are flowing.  It doesn't smell like burning hair or anything close to it.  I asked the techs, and they looked at me like, "Smell?  What smell?"  Google came up with nothing.  I know I'm not imagining it.  Or, at least I think I'm not.  

I asked to be moved to a later time slot when one comes available.  Next week, I will be at 7:50 a.m.  Oh well, it is 50 minutes later.  Beggars can't be choosers. 

Tomorrow, I have treatment first thing, then meet with the doctors, nurses, and a nutritionist.  Maybe one of them will know about the smell.