Ah, early this morning, I finally lay down on that hard surface with my arms behind my head, one. last time. And waited. And looked up (with my eyes; I am not to move), and Sandra, the radiation therapist helping me this morning, is obviously struggling. She sighs, tells me this is a hardware problem. "This did have to happen on your last day!" She got out the ladder. Put it back. Finally, she called John, one of the other therapists. Resorting to male muscles. And he does not need the ladder. John comes in, touches something, then the world is once again in order.
And so, the 33rd radiation treatment is over, I get discharged, tagged for a later visit, and out the door I get.
The number 33 will always remind me of Rolling Rock. See, some people have those little ovals on the back of their cars with 13.1 or 26.2?
Hmm, not as much fun. Just kidding.
But seriously, I can take a shower now, and wash all those markings off. And get up with more time to walk/trot.
It's a happy milestone.