Zap..

No, not really, just the planning session.
I toddled off to a rather swish private hospital this afternoon to have the "planning session" for the Radiotherapy treatment. Because the local NHS facility is so overstretched, they are buying in services from Cancer Partners UK, and because I live towards the West of the county they referred me there for my treatment.
I finally found my way into the hospital, to discover I was in the wrong building. Out I went, trotted all the way back around the place to find the right one. Met a nice radiographer who explained about the effects of the treatment, and how it would happen - then I had to have a scan - so we trotted all the way back across the car park to the building I started off in!

The scan was easy enough - lay back with the arms above my head, even armrests to support my elbows. They pointed lasers at me and made the tiniest ever tattoos - one under each arm and one right between my boobs. These are so that they can point more lasers at these marks to line up the magic zapping machine in the same way each day. When they said there would be tattoos I have to admit I was almost hoping for something that would justify some camouflage work - "oh, I need to conceal those nasty marks with something pretty". Nah. Nothing doing, it looks as though I was stabbed repeatedly by a butterfly wielding a dried-up biro. And you need a magnifying glass to actually see where the butterfly artwork is.

I was also given the timetable for the actual treatment. Starting January 31st, then every weekday for the next 23 - nearly five weeks of daily treatments. So, back on the treatment treadmill again. But this is the home stretch, or so they tell me.