Radiotherapy Day 6

Jackie took me today. She arrived at 7.30 and we talked the entire way to the Sussex Cancer Centre.
The waiting room was empty again. We sat and chatted some more.
RRRRRRRIINNG went the fire bell. Silence.
Slam went the fire doors. All on their own.
Oh, said Jackie. They closed all on their own!
We gazed at the doors.
One of them was pushed open. A man dressed head to toe in black and wearing the squeakiest shoes I've ever heard then pushed open the other door.
Squeak, squeak, squeak, squeak. Off he went, walking slowly down the corridor.
Down the same corridor came the sound of people. A man and a younger woman came in and sat down opposite us. He was breathing heavily.
I'm so out of breath, he said.
The doors to my left opened and one of the nurses looked out at the man.
Come on, Stephen, he said.
Then looked at me.
Oh, he said. You're here.
I am! I said brightly.
You'd better come first, he said, apologising to Stephen, who wasn't remotely bothered, as his appointment wasn't for 10 minutes.
I changed in the little cubicle.
Walked down the corridor to B1.
There was the nurse, preparing the bed. Without its covering, it looked strange, with holes and black bits of metal.
The nurse covered it with paper, and on I hopped.
This time I had a picture of Jesus and I on a tightrope. Jesus riding a bike on a tightrope, with me clinging to his neck. The tightrope stretched from one mountain to another, and we gathered speed as we approached the second mountain, shouting with laughter and exhilaration.
All done, Helen, said the nurse.
And helped me up and on with my robe.
We drove home in wind and sunshine, getting a couple of lattes and danish pastries (warm!) from the Flour Pot café.
This is the life.