Today and tomorrow are off days for treatment before I have four rather grueling days next week to complete this round of treatments.
The days after the treatments continue to be more of a challenge than the treatments themselves. There is an obvious cumulative effect of the radiation. Today is a rather unusual day for me to have little on my plate. No preparation for Sunday, except to pray. Today’s blog will focus on some things that happened yesterday that I thought that I would wait until today to share. Each of the three times I have had radiation treatments, I have been in Treatment Room 3. There is one radiation machine that does the special radiation that I am receiving but four rooms around it. After one patient is treated, the machine rotates to the next room. If I am ever on Let’s Make a Deal, I am picking Door #3. I have a feeling that all five treatments will be in room 3. Each time I have walked into the treatment room, contemporary Christian music has been playing. When I had the simulation for the radiation a couple of weeks ago, the techs asked me what kind of music I preferred. They marked that and that’s the music that has been playing each time. The techs didn’t have to ask me a second time. It is often those little things that happen at Mayo Clinic that they do to help you with the treatments. That’s why waiting 17 days for the bone biopsy to be scheduled was so out of character. There is a step stool to help me get up to the machine. The stool is intended to look like it’s a part of the décor for every patient. I think not. In a similar vein, today when I pulled the gown out of the closet, I noticed for the first time that the shelves had markings. The eye level shelf for me was the gown that I had taken for the two previous treatments. The shelf was marked “teen gowns.” The upper shelf was marked “adult gowns.” Let me suffice to say that after wearing the adult gown that drug the ground, I am going back to the teen shelf. As they are getting me positioned on the machine the young tech asks me, “So are you still a practicing reverend? Twenty years ago I was always addressed at Mayo Clinic as Reverend Cooper. When we came back for treatment a couple of weeks ago, they asked for a preferred name. I wrote Chuck. I am not sure what a practicing reverend is. I simply said, “Yes, I am still a pastor.” When I laid down on the machine I could hear the song that was playing. Most of the time the music has been upbeat contemporary Christian music. The song playing was “What a Beautiful Name It Is” that we have been singing lately at church. I love that song and the version that they were playing is my favorite. The radiation started on a good note. I usually count the number of songs as they are played because it gives me an idea of when the radiation is about over. Six or seven songs usually does it. There are four positions for the machine for the radiation treatment. One directly over my body. One to each side. And surprisingly enough one is done from directly below the table, going through the table and the pad that I am lying on. After getting the bone biopsy scheduled, I headed to the car and on to the checkout of the parking garage. The folks at Mayo have learned that every person involved is important. Kind of like schools figuring out that a grumpy worker in the lunchroom or a jerk of a janitor hinders learning. The attendant at the parking garage was as nice as you could expect. We both asked each other how the day was going. Her response was, “Good, but I will be glad when I am done in a couple of hours.” Jokingly I said to her, “Why don’t we just switch jobs for the rest of the afternoon?” She laughed and said, “My boss probably wouldn’t like that.” For some reason I said, “Neither would mine.” “Who is your boss?” she asked. I said, “Ultimately my boss is the Lord above.” She said, “Yeah, but I know in this world your boss is your wife.” I smiled and drove out of the parking garage. Some things I noted during the rest of the day: ● A scrub store would be a great business to own in Rochester. I saw one. It was simply called, “The Scrub Store.” I could have been that creative. ● It got up to a balmy 32 degrees this afternoon. As I watched kids walk from the bus, you couldn’t help but notice that many of them weren’t wearing their coats. One kid was wearing no coat and maybe gym shorts and a T-shirt. However, the crossing guard had his hat pulled down over his ears, thick gloves, and a coat that could have been used to go snow skiing. He must have been a transplant from somewhere else. ● I changed from the khakis I wore to the Clinic into blue jeans before I ate at Texas Roadhouse. Just as I finished today’s blog, I get a text. It is from Mayo Clinic from the bone biopsy department reminding me of the bone biopsy that is scheduled for Tuesday. Apparently they have my phone number correct now. I couldn’t help but smile.
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Chuck Cooper
Pastor at Daybreak Community Church Archives
November 2024
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