These pictures were taken during my simulation in which they made my mask and made some tomographic images to develop my treatment plan.
I’m becoming pretty intimate with this machine. The green laser beam is used to line up my body so the right areas get zapped. The lining up part still seems a little fishy to me.
The radiation oncology resident taped a wire onto my neck so they could better identify the surgery field that had been dissected. I like this picture because it feels particularly corpse like. It’s always a nice reminder. Apologies to those who don’t want to be reminded.
This is my friend. They created the mask during my simulation in a process that was similar to water boarding except without the torture. They soaked the compound-impregnated mesh cloth in warm water, draped it over my face and bolted it to the table. My hands were bound with strips of cloth, pulled down and tied to my feet (the idea being to keep my shoulders taut). I lay there for 20 minutes, waiting for the thing to harden. I like the anguished Munsch-like rictus – if ever there were an outer expression of my inner state of being.
Note the masking tape with the guidelines penned in with a felt-tipped marker. The mouth prosthesis intended to keep my tongue in place was fashioned from a popsicle stick, half a piece of cork, some masking tape, and a pack of sculpy. We’re talking Apollo 13, here.
I love these guys.
Oh, Andy, I miss you! You are awesome. And the mask is surreal.
I just realized that the image of me on the table reminds me of that scene in Soylent Green when the good cop is being shipped off for incineration. They may even be an imagined scene. In a movie that no one under age 44 has seen. And starring a weird NRA gun freak. Hmm.
Today I listened to Beethoven while the linear accelerator hummed and did its thing. God bless Beethoven’s heart. Could he have even imagined?