The radiation treatment I am undergoing involves special heat lamps trained on my chest which is alleged to lure any microscopic cancer cells to my chest then once they are there they will be attacked with short shots of radiation.
For 45 minutes I lie there, delightfully warm listening to the machine click off whenever my skin reaches 41°C and on again when it is drops below.
The doctor is in the room with me. I was so worried he would be a stuffy Swiss German who spoke n English, no French. He is fluent in both along with five other languages and two more where he is functional.
He's anything but stuffy. We chat off and on about the treatment, languages, books, art and music. He has a delightful giggle.
Last treatment he told me a joke after I asked him if he understood the expression "piece of cake" which is how I think of the treatments especially compared to chemo. We tested each other on different expressions...then he told me a joke.
A Brit, a Frenchman and a Czech went hunting in Canada during the winter even though the RCMP had warned them how dangerous it was.
"Let's keep looking. There may be another bear that got the Czech," Mountie 1 said to the other.
"I'm not so sure," said Mountie 2.
They kept searching and found more footprints, another cave and another fat bear only this was a male. They killed that bear too.
"I told you the Czech was in the male," Mountie 1 said to Mountie 2.
Who says radiation can't be fun?