Kind of a small thing, but…
Jun Comments
So I had a minor writing breakthrough today. I should probably file this under ‘accomplishments that most people wouldn’t understand, but still made you squee like a sissy girl’ category. While writing this morning, during a particularly moving scene, I teared up. Okay, well. This is something I’ve heard other writers talk about. They say that they cry and cry while they’re writing, for their sad characters. It always makes me feel like a hack. That’s never happened to me.
Well, well. It wasn’t quite like that; there was no sobbing. But I did tear up. That’s got to mean something. (Not enough sleep?)
Life goal #32976.3
Jun Comments
Obtain employment where it is both legal and expected to have a wet bar in office. In other news, 30 Rock rules my universe. That is all.
Webpage Fail
Jun Comments
Everytime I click the Upload/Insert Photo button, WordPress crashes Firefox. This makes me a sad panda.
One of the bad days.
Jun Comments
I work in a cancer center. I am a medical physicist (some day I’m going to write up a detailed post on what the hell that is and why you’ve never heard of me), and so my patient involvement is touch and go. Some procedures I’m intensively involved with, others I am very behind the scenes.
The first thing people comment on is how depressing my job must be. Okay, actually, when I tell them I’m a medical physicist their first reaction is: Whoa! You must be smart. … What the hell is a medical physicist? Then they comment about how my job must be depressing. But, to be truthful, it really isn’t. Many of our patients come in to our center as fighters. One of my most favorite aspects of this job is doing HDR treatment for breast cancer patients.
It is a relatively complicated procedure and so physicists are very involved at every stage: simulation, planning, and treatment. In the other parts of the department, radiation therapists (who are the hardest working employees of a radiation therapy center) get to see patients daily. But HDR is where I get to. And breast cancer patients are among our best.
Often young–due to improved screening processes–they are warriors. They come in smiling and they almost always leave that way, no matter what horrible things we do to their bodies in our attempt to heal them.
But cancer in general is an older person’s disease. The years add up, each moment a roll of the dice. The longer you live, the more times you roll the dice.
Today we have one of our older patients in for the treatment of a large tumor at the base of his skull. He is not entirely oriented. He has been incapable of walking for a few years now and is carted around in a wheelchair by his daughter. The only glimmer of his personality we see is when the therapist asks him if he is ready for treatment, and he shakes his head slightly.
His daughter coaxes him along, promising ice cream when they are done. The therapist wheels him to the treatment vault. Her voice is singsong, cheerful. They are both talking to him like he was two years old. I suppose, that’s not far from the truth.
There are moments when this job is depressing, and this is one of them. But usually it is not. Usually, our days are pretty good.
Parable of the Drone
Jun Comments
I got out of the job today with sunlight to spare. I was motivated and fired up and, after the two hour drive home, I now want to do nothing but sleep. Shady Pines, here I come. If you visit, just look for the old man on the porch rocker. If you cross over to me to say hello, be sure to use the walkway lest I shake my old-man fist at you, damn kids.
Maybe I’ll do some writing tomorrow? Now I’m off to read some Butler. Yay.