Friday, September 6th through Sunday, September 8th, 2014. Days 5-7 Hamilton.
Remember how I'd mentioned that I thought the dosimeters were being taped on because it was the first day? I was wrong. They get taped on every single treatment. It was still funny the second time, maybe I'll stop giggling after the fourth or fifth, but I doubt it. Every time they wedge a piece of styrofoam between my cheeks, it's going to be funny to me. "Hello, Tim, how are you?" *wedge* "HaHAhaha, I'm great, I'm great."
On Friday, I had to assume pose "Greek God #1", which is turned sideways, like I'm going to hurl a discus or some other popular Greek projectile, like, say, a lemon, maybe. Alternatively, if it helps, I was walking like an Egyptian. The Bangles would be so proud.
They did my left and right flanks with one arm up in front of me, and one raised behind, my legs staggered, and my knees slightly bent; I was turned, and the process was repeated, which is about how it's always going to go, with, of course, variations in poses. Occasionally, I will have extra treatments to other areas, for instance, in this case, the soles of my feet. This required me to put my gowns back on, scamper up onto a raised and further raisable platform, and put my feet into a clear tray. My feet were then covered in rice, which, from the standpoint of the absorption of radiation, acts remarkably like human flesh. The platform was then raised up, waa-a-a-a-y up, to allow the head of the emitter to be traversed underneath, and I sat for another thirty seconds while I got them tootsies zapped. They brought me back down, I was sent off to change, and then Camille, one of the techs-in-training, wheeled me off to the front door of the JCC. A cab was called, and I was whisked away to the Days Inn, in beautiful, scenic, downtown Hamilton. I may be taking some descriptive liberties.
My cab ride over was a bit of an experience. He weaved a lot, drove without looking at the road, changed lanes without signalling, ignored stop signs, almost ignored red lights, got honked at a lot, and for all of that, carried on a friendly, amiable conversation the whole while, as if nothing untoward was happening. In short, it was completely typical for a ride in a taxi.
Downtown Hamilton, and the suburbs that we crossed through in the getting to it, is built very closely together, and out of a lot of brick. This particular neighbourhood is also a teense on the sketchy side. Friday night, I just ordered a gluten-free pizza from Domino's, which was the first time I've ever tried one of their gf pies, and it was quite a bit better than I was expecting. But that was all I did. I was exhausted, I ordered a pizza, I watched a movie on Netflix, taking advantage of the free WiFi, and I went to bed, never having had the remotest inkling of desire to explore my surrounds. Radiation will do that to you. On the cab ride over, however, I'd noticed a Tim Horton's just down and across the street, and I resolved to get coffee in the morning. Timmy's tends to be consistent, and when you're that tired, you don't want surprises.
I awoke the next morning, threw on a a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, my light fall jacket, and headed out, stopping at a convenience store for snacks, peering at some commotion down a side street, and through the entrance to Mr. Horton's fine establishment, only to find that I was incredibly overdressed. When you're overdressed for Tim Horton's, it's a rough neighbourhood - I've seen Wal-Marts with snappier dressed clientele. I got my coffee and my hash browns to go.
On the way back home, I peered at that side street commotion again. Would you care to know what it was? It consisted of three, possibly four squad cars (thought I saw a fourth on the far side of the scene, but I couldn't be certain), two fire engines, and a rescue services ambulance, with city policemen standing on the far sides of their cruisers for cover. Interestingly, the no attempt was made to keep traffic off the street. All of the vehicles mentioned had their lights flashing, but no sirens blared, and no one shouted through a megaphone. Maybe they were just having a dance party in the street? I kept on walking, and hunkered down in my hotel room for the rest of the weekend. I ate another pizza and some Thai food.
Ah, Hamilton.
Parellel lines have so much in common. It's a shame they'll never meet.
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