let's learn something

i want to clarify something. my career.

it is very rare that someone actually knows what i'm talking about when i tell them what my degree is. i say the words "radiation therapy" and you would think i spoke another language. one i made up. at first, the confused look on people's faces amused me. like i had a secret. like i know something you don't. but after about 27 times of having to explain what radiation therapy is (which isn't always easy--there's a lot of jargon that can't be translated into simpler lingo), i'm getting tired.

and this problem isn't just limited to those with non-health careers. for example, during spring break we met a proud nurse anesthetist from wisconsin (my response to his self-esteem,"you have high practice insurance."). he broadcasts his career to us, especially when he finds out that meghan and melissa are nursing majors-giving them employment tips that they are well aware of. he looks at me and asks what i do.

"radiation therapy."

"oh so, like CTs and x-rays and stuff?" he asks.

no. this is the common response from people. yes, i do take x-rays and do CT scans - but this is not my primary duty.

"no, like cancer treatment." i wait for recognition in his face. nothing. "i work with linear accelerators and different machines to radiate cancer?"

his eyes go wide and he gets a horrified look on his face. while shaking his head, he says, "i don't do that." huh?

"i know. i do."

[this is him (on the right) with his cousin (left). when we first started talking to him, he was alone. we asked him who he was here with. he said his family, and then says, "we got a ginger." --whom he then brought to us.

later when we ask how old he is, he ashamedly looks to the ground and says, "old." then tells us he is 25. i laugh. "that's not old. that's young. you don't need to be ashamed of that." then i think for a minute. "...unless you're lying."]

sad, but usually the only people who know what i'm talking about are those that have dealt with cancer directly.

so to put it visually, here is what i do:

this machine here is a standard linear accelerator (actually, it looks a little outdated but i didn't feel like going through 8 pages of google images). on the table, is a cancer patient. the women standing next to her is me. ...with a bad haircut and sense of style.

what happens is, i will set this patient up on the table, line them up with lasers such to make sure they are in the right position, add any other necessary treatment devices, step out of the room and close the big lead door, and - with the computers outside the room (like below) - run the machine and radiate the patient. zap.

along with treatments, there is the treatment planning, assessments, machine calibrations, quality assurance, production of treatment devices, etc. if you're really interested i have about +200 powerpoints, books, and lectures i can send you. i won't even charge you tuition.

age is irrelevant

so here is how i end up almost naked on spring break.

(trust me, it's not what you think)

day 3 (...or was it 4?) of our spring break vaca, we - as usual - get up and go to the beach in the morning to spend the day laying out hoping (and for me, praying) we get tan before we have to trek back to the last minute snow storms/oh-so conveniently unpredictable st. louis weather. it is around 10 am, we grab some chairs by the pool and bask. not 2 minutes later, some men - probably in their late 40s? yet with the swagger of 19 year olds - come up to us and announce that we have taken their seats. too bad. and that these were the seats they were sitting in yesterday. too bad. the seats, which were in perfect alignment for the morning sun, were still damp from being sprayed off that morning. as the men were still jokingly badgering us about the prime spot, karen pipes up, "you got them all wet!!!"

.......

not the choice of words i would have gone with.

prime spot>>
the gentleman move on to the front of the deck. but not to be unheard, yelling out to each other even though they were less than a foot apart each.

"are they drunk?" i ask.

this continues throughout the week. on st. patrick's day, the men dress accordingly - one even had enough irish spirit to sport a headband with little leprechauns on green antennas. they also invited us to a barbecue at their condo, "free of charge". how generous. as we continue to find out over our trip, there's no age limit on spring break. i could've brought my dad afterall.

but it was this day- it was afternoonish and i was reading at the front of the deck, in a chair, facing the beach, praying to get tan. yeah. i'm a great multi-tasker. the rest of the girls were behind me laying in our chairs back in our prime spot. it was very suddenly, that i felt my swimsuit top become unhooked in the back. i grab it and hold it in place. well.... this is convenient. i look around... who can i ask to help me?

the closest people are behind me--one of the drunk, +40 year old guys and a lady friend he found. [he bought her a drink after she helped him rub sunscreen on his back. they were discussing small-cell lung carcinoma. she was listing off facts about this type of cancer - all of which i was silently concurring in my head as i eavesdropped. a member of her family had had this disease. apparently drunk, +40 year old guy had also had lung cancer, because he was crying. she was comforting him. she had an annoying southern accent.]

....i should not interrupt that.

i move my book to one hand. my other arm i cross against my chest to hold my top in place so i can walk to the girls to get some assistance. i am one arm stretch away from flashing the poolside.

--let me remind you, we are in destin. not panama city, where flashing the poolside may not only be accepted, but encouraged. this is a family place. ...plus drunk, +40 year old men.

as i walk up to our prime seating, kaylin spots me and starts hooting at me, thinking that i am just mockingly hiding my chest (yes, my chest is that small that my scrawny arm can cover all i possess. in a few days while laying by the pool, i will decide out-loud that "maybe i should get a boob job". a woman stranger responds, "i second that."). after a few hoots, kaylin -realizing the situation- states, "oh, you really are naked." yep. just about.

she stands to hook me back up. which is when we find out that my clip is not unhooked, but broken. ...well, f.

solution one: "just put on your swim suit cover," suggests kaylin. well, i didn't wear one today.
solution two: "just put on my swim suit cover," again, kaylin, while handing me her thin, skin tight, little black dress of a swim suit cover. honey, my nipples will poke out of that like a shark fins out of water. i decline her offer.
solution three: "welp, time to go home."

i end up putting on Celeste's jean shirt-which didn't look too shabby with my black string bottoms. in fact, it was damn sexy. this new confidence brings me to wave at every male we pass on the way home. age was irrelevant.