Que Sera Sera

Day 1 of the radiotherapy stint is now safely ticked off on my list. It wasn't a zapping appointment - that starts today - it was a 'getting ready to be zapped' appointment, where they needed to get the machine programmed in with the right co-ordinates.

I have to say, that the radiotherapy bit of the big scary hospital is SO MUCH NICER than the chemo bit. I went with my mum, and the people in the waiting room were more relaxed, and some people even smiled! Some ladies in there weren't wearing any scarves, wigs or bandanas, and just had a fraction more hair than me. They looked really good. Maybe in a couple of weeks I'll join them. I don't look too bad now from the front, but when I turn to the side I seem to have a huge bit of skull that sticks out at the back. Gosh, I'm so vain!

There was a lady in the waiting room making a massive proggy mat. She had a wooden frame with a bit of hessian sack attached to it. She had loads of small strips of felt and was progging them through the holes in the hessian with a progger-thing. It's something my mum used to make when she was a little lass, so she got all excited when she saw it, and joined in - much to the lady's delight. (She was there as an 'official proggy mat-maker, by the way, not just a random lady carrying her hobby around everywhere she went.)

I was called by a nice chap called David, left mum happily progging away, and followed him into a little consultation room where he explained all about the next 3 weeks. He gave me a timetable with all the dates and times on and asked if they all seemed alright. The 'sports day' time was a bit dodgy, so I asked if that one could be changed.

'Ah, you'll be wanting to watch your kids,' he said.

'I'm not bothered about them,' I replied, 'I just want to run in the mothers race.'

He looked me up and down. 'I bet you run it in bare feet,' he said, a little smile appearing on his face.

'How do you know that?' I asked. I wondered if he thought I was Zola Budd.

'I can just tell,' he said knowingly, and left it at that.

A bit later, I was ushered into a little changing cubicle where I had to strip to the waist and put on a terrible little spotty tunic that had velcro-ed shoulders and sides. I didn't know how much time I had, otherwise I was going to start doing a Bucks Fizz Eurovision dance impression in front of the mirror, and whip the tunic off in one big rip. Thankfully I didn't, as they soon came in to get me, and lay me down on the zapping bed.

The radiographers were called Ruth and Robbie. I could imagine them on Britain's Got Talent, as they were a pretty impressive double act. He was slightly camp, and enjoyed dancing around the bed I was lying on, putting felt tip pen marks all over me. She was the sensible one, and kept checking to see if he'd done it right.

They got me in position, then left the room whilst the machine zooped about on its practice run. They told me that whatever happened, I had to KEEP STILL, and NOT MOVE!

Before they left, they pressed 'play' on the little cd player. I wondered what music they had chosen for me. Within a few seconds, Doris Day started belting out 'Que Sera Sera,' at the top of her voice. It was lovely, albeit a very surreal experience lying there - arms above my head, boobs out, alone in a room listening to Doris. I wanted to sway my arms in time to the song and sing along with the chorus, but thought better of it. In fact, I'm not sure I even breathed!

Anyway, job done, and all I had to do was drag my mother away from the proggy mat, grab a coffee and head home.

So when you press play on the clip above, make sure you think of me - in fact, why don't you try it yourself - and see if you can lie there throughout the whole song without moving a muscle - not as easy as it sounds!