once more unto the doughnut

There are notices everywhere banning photography.  I explain to the radiographer that I’d like a snapshot of this machine.   I tell her I’ve been coming here for the past 10 years and that fingers (and everything else) crossed this should be my last visit; “as long as you don’t show my ugly mug take as many as you like”.

She doesn’t do herself justice.  She does not have an ugly anything.  Like all the staff in the Oxford Cancer Centre she is kind and caring and considerate.  I wonder if they go on a course for this.  Perhaps they could send a few politicians.

I’m an old hand at this now.  I realised that when I walked into the waiting room.  I can see the fear and anxiety in the newbies.  It’s as much about where to go, where to sit and what to do, as it is about lying inside that machine and wondering what it’s going to find.

I take my seat with a sense of confidence and detachment and begin reading my book.  It’s not that I’m not anxious, I’ve just learnt to deal with it.  If anything I’m more concerned, as I tot up the years, about just how much radiation I’ve been subjected to.  Anniemay swears I glow in the dark.

So - is this it?  I’ll find out in two weeks time.  As I leave the radiographer touches my arm; “I hope I don’t see you again”.  I return the compliment in the firm hope that our wish is granted.