Doctor D phoned to say that the PET scan showed my lungs to be clear except for a non-malignant nodule, which meant curative treatment of the cancer in my neck could proceed. This would entail six weeks of chemo and radiotherapy.

By using the word ‘curative’ I understood him to mean he expected to delay my demise by as much as a decade. If he thought I only had a year or two left, he would have said ‘palliative.’

The next day, Friday the 28th of October, 2022, C from Oncology phoned to say that I should be at the Centre at 2.30 to be fitted with a mask before undergoing a scan. We scurried about, jumped in the car, and K got me there with ten minutes to spare.

In the Radiology waiting room there was a comfortable black leather couch, which the receptionist urged us to make use of, but we had barely seated ourselves when C and R arrived and welcomed us in a friendly fashion. We followed them down a sloping passage into the radiation bunker. They explained that I would be fitted with a mask that would be used to position my head in precisely the same place for each treatment. I lay on the table that stood before the radiation equipment, the mask was heated in some kind of microwave oven to soften it and, while it was still warm and waxy, they pressed it down on my nose, forehead and chin, moulding it to my features with their fingers.

The radiographers explained that they now needed a scan of my head and shoulders for them to direct the radioactive rays to target the cancerous areas with the utmost precision. Accordingly, we drove the short distance to Mediclinic, I again put my head into the white doughnut, and then it was back to Oncology.

I again removed my shirt and lay on the hard plastic bench, a wedge under my knees and one behind my neck. The mask was fitted over my face and they fastened it down at its nine anchor points. To say it was a snug fit would be an understatement. My head was completely immobilised and I could barely move my eyelids. They asked me if I was all right and whether I felt claustrophobic, to which I grunted in the affirmative and the negative. Flor the next ten minutes or so they took measurements, drew lines on the mask and calibrated their instruments in the control room. The mask was unfastened and removed, and I was free to go home, have a dop and braai some Friday fish. The preparatory work being complete, treatment could commence on Monday.

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