I accompanied my friend, Ben Christensen, to his radiation therapy session today. Pinned down by what he calls his "life mask" so he can't move when a machine delivers a prescribed dose of radiation to a spot on the surface of his tongue, Ben is winning a war against cancer by being very still. He has given me permission to share a poem he wrote after his doctor told him about the cancer.The Zapper

It totally took me by surprise.
I thought my uvula had collapsed,
Then the malignant lump my doctors found
Started the whole commotion.
The biopsy confirmed the carcinoma of
Squamous cells, in an awkward location --
Tongue surface in the upper pharyngeal area.
But the good news -- just stage two.

The doctors devised a plan -- external radiation.
I wanted a second opinion.
That doctor agreed with the
Original diagnosis, but proposed basic surgery.
No way, Jose, I said, too much invasive injury!
Thus, today I had my thirteenth zapping;
Only twenty-two more to go.
I lie on my back on a flat board --
Head, neck, shoulders
pinned down tight - Oh, Lord, it's hard!
The mask, they call it, fits tight to my head
And shoulders to hold me firmly in its grasp.
After each treatment, a waffle-like grid is
Engraved on my face.
Ten minutes of radiation -- zapping -- focused
On that awkward place.

All thirty-five treatments are quite repetitive,
Zap after zap.
Salivary gland damage results in dry-mouth;
Taste bud damage causes tastelessness;
External skin burn just a minor irritant.
Jaw-bone damage? Maybe.
Swallowing muscle damage brings pain,
I anticipate the pain and hesitate to swallow,
resulting in weight loss.
No picnic this!

I've got to admit, though, my support team -
Family, friends, near and far, western medicine,
Eastern regimen, these doctors,
these technicians, this medical machinery --
the Zapper -- are God-sends.

Ben Christensen, Dec. 18, '09