Well, the actual radiation pill was pretty much the most boring doctor's appointment ever. I'd been carefully avoiding dairy products, products of the sea, processed food, iodized salt, and exuberance like a good girl for 10 days, I'd had my pregnancy blood test, I brought some reading and knitting. The doctor was running late, of course, so I waited. The radiology tech that called me back was vaguely familiar from my work at that hospital (oh, the joys of living in the same town your entire life....) and seemed vaguely uncomfortable with me. The room contained a bed, a chair and a lead container.
When the doctor showed up, he initialled some things, went over the discharge instructions, and opened the container. The pill looked like your stereotypical capsule. The tech ran to get a glass of water, and didn't seem very happy about me holding the thing in my hand. I drank the water, swallowed the pill. The tech "took the measurements" (geiger counter???) and I was out the door.
Today I'm feeling a little funny in the mouth. Nothing horrid. I'm supposed to get some lemon candy, which I am on my way out the door to do. I had to continue the low-iodine diet until the end of the day yesterday, so I started today with a Pig in the Garden scramble at Food Dance. Mmm. Smoky apple bacon.
But I've been thinking about the relationship of planning and worry. Once the plan is in place, any further thought seems to lead to worry. And worry is the biggest waste of time. I had a list of questions I wanted to ask the doctor, and I started to ask them Wednesday when I was there getting an injection. The medical assistant kind of snapped, "What's the big deal? It's two injections and a pill." At the time, I was kind of angry. But she was right. It was two injections and a pill.
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