MY NEMESIS

My Nemesis. That's what I call the mask they put over my face for radiation treatments.

It's plastic, with small holes and comes down to about the top of my biceps.
I hate it.

I'm kind of an antsy guy. I tap my feet. I click my heels together when I should be standing still. And I sometimes rub my hands together like I'm trying to start a fire. I'm not insane(or not COMPLETELY insane, at least) I just have too much nervous energy sometimes.

On top of that, I'm a bit claustrophobic. I think that started when I got trapped in an elevator when I was four years old. I didn't really overcome my fear of elevators until I was in college. My first semester at LSU, I lived on the 11th floor of my dorm(Kirby Smith, for any LSU people out there) Anyway, I took the stairs everyday in late-summer Louisiana heat and humidity for about three weeks. It took that kind of discomfort for me to start using elevators.

I'm not trying to make excuses for my girlishness. I'm flat out scared of that plastic mask, whether there is a reason or not. It's irrational. I realize that during rational moments, which is pretty much anytime I'm not on the table with that mask squeezing my face.

Yeah, it's tight. They made the mold a few weeks after I finished chemotherapy. I have gained 10-12 lbs. since then, largely because I started eating and working out like I had before chemotherapy. The chemo had knocked my weight down into the low 160s. My face is now a little fuller than it was when I went in for my mask fitting. Now my nemesis leaves its mark on me. I can see the pattern of tiny holes on my face when the treatments are over.

Now, this is the part that makes me seem really weak:
Each treatment lasts roughly seven minutes. Just seven minutes!!! I'm guessing, really. But the pont is it's not a long time. And I STILL can barely take it. I have terrible thoughts while I lie there. For instance, someone could come in and put their hand over my nose and mouth, and I would be defenseless. Or everyone in the radiation unit could go to lunch at the same time and forget about me, leaving me stuck there like "The Man in the Plastic Mask".

All the techs who oversee my treatment are really kind. They seem understanding and tell me other people have problems with the masks, too. And they try to make me as comfortable as possible. They give me time to breath deeply and put my mind in the right place before we start. And one even brought in her IPod speaker so I could plug in and listen to some music during treatment.

But it still feels a little like torture. And at least once every treatment, so far, I have had an urge to holler and tell them to stop; that I cannot do it today and may not be back.

The good news is I reached the official halfway mark today. Nine treatments down. Nine to go.
If you pray, pray that I can make it through the second half. It shouldn't be that hard. But I am struggling to conquer my nemesis.