As some of you may know, I spent this past weekend like the good people of Chernobyl spend all of their time: being radioactive. I mean, I was more radioactive than someone trying to call into B101's Best Christmas Ever. (Oh wait! No, that's radio active; that's different. And yes, I called it B101. I know it's called 101.1 MoreFM, now, but I deliberately choose to remain a loyal B101.1 fan.)
You may remember that I had cancer. (How could you forget, when everything I say reminds you of it?) In order to make sure that it doesn't come back, I had to get two shots and swallow a radioactive iodine pill, which essentially unleashes radioactive iodine on some iodine loving cancer cells, destroying them once and for all. It's that age old saying: "Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Fool me three times, I'm going radioactive on your ass."
The shots were for raising my levels of thyroid forming cells. I got each one of them in the couple of days prior to my taking the pill. When I went in to get them, I rolled up my sleeve and told the nurse to "do her worst." She then told me that the shot doesn't go in the arm and instructed that I bend over. I said "Two shots in the butt? But it's not Saturday?..."
It wasn't uncomfortable at all, being radioactive, I mean. I actually felt right at home, not just because I was lying in bed at home, but because I used to live next to a nuclear power plant. It brought back a lot of fond memories of being exposed to minimal amounts of radiation all of the time. It's probably where I got the cancer in the first place. How's that for a taste of it's own nuclear medicine?
My doctor seemed downright lacksadasical about the entire process, waffling on all of the rules he gave me in the handout. I could eat whatever I wanted, do whatever I wanted (inside my room), and drink whatever I wanted. The big things were that I couldn't be around children and needed to not put everything in my mouth. I could even be around people for the last bit of the weekend, I just couldn't put any of them in my mouth. It was boring, to say the least. I peed most of the radiation out, so if there's a few more radioactive monsters in the NYC sewer system, you'll know why, and it'll be my job to get them out of there. Cowabunga!
One thing I was told to do was to buy sour candy to suck on, so that the radiation didn't get caught in my salivary glands. Man, I was walking around bragging that the doctor "prescribed me Sour Patch Kids" the entire weekend. Of course, nobody heard me cause it was around my empty apartment, but still.
Another thing that I had to do was use the same fork for the entire weekend, wash it separately, and then stick it and my toothbrush in a plastic bag and keep them in the back of my closet for three months. I said "Whoa, doc! I don't have a closet." He said keep it somewhere dark and cool, at which point I bent over and...
All in all, it's impossible to tell if I did everything correctly and who knows how many innocent bystanders I've infected? What I will say is I hope it worked. I'll get a scan this week and find out. I don't think I could do it again. If I'm not out and doing stuff, I get restless. You can't tame this creative beast. So, I think I'm good now. Just don't point a Geiger counter at me.