Well-Spoken Words, July 7 :)

Proverbs 25:11 says that "A word aptly spoken is like apples of gold in settings of silver."


In the course of my daily radiation treatments I have the opportunity to have brief conversations with the wonderful technicians who are microwaving my backside.  I should begin by describing the process for the sake of those who have not had the privilege of irradiation of their "southern hemisphere."

It's not a totally humiliating process...they do let you keep your socks.  Patients who see each other in the hallway don't have to ask the "What'cha in for?" question; you simply look to see what article of clothing has been taken away from them.  I believe the hospital gowns are made by the same company that designs those jackets with REALLY long sleeves and heavy-duty buckles.  
Seriously, the technicians do everything in their power to "keep it light" and preserve as much of your dignity as possible (I only heard snickering on the other side of the glass once or twice.)  Each session begins with the Mayo version of "name, rank and serial number," "William Price - 6/9/61."  Followed by a jovial, "Well hello Mr. Price, how are we today?" Or, "how's the weather out there," or (in my case) "Did you get to play golf this weekend?"


I kinda feel sorry for these folks.  They have to make a very unpleasant routine task as bearable as possible, and they do a great job.  They carefully watch what they say, but there's been a few slip ups lately.


Now, my particular treatment requires me to lie face down on something like a massage table (minus the massage) while they line my tattoos up on three laser beams.  Oh yeah, I've got three tattoos!  I think I'm the only pastor on staff who has one, and I'm raising money for the new building by selling peeks at my tattoos (although I bet Karen Foster has one somewhere!).    


The techs have a very discreet process down to a fine art, kinda like an Indy pit crew.  One will open the gown while another deftly slides a towel in place, quickly covering the offensive "real estate" (although mine's not as offensive as others).  Once the towel is in place, your face is looking down through a hole in the table, your legs are fit into a mold (so you can't shift around while their microwaving you) and the lasers are lined up on your tattoos, they like to give some gentle parting words to let you know that they are leaving the room (and also to help them withhold the snickering until they're out of earshot).  
Today Alex got me into position and as he prepared to leave the room he said, "Okay Mr. Price, we're cookin'!"


My head shot up out of the hole in the table.  "Really, Alex?  You're about to fry me with 15000 rads of something, and the best you can come up with is 'We're cookin'"?


"Sorry!" he replied, "I try to watch myself, but that one kinda slipped out!"
---


So they slide this big lead barn door behind them because, of course, they don't want to get fried by all the stuff they're shooting at me, and I get to lay there for about ten minutes and listen to the worst elevator jazz on the planet.   I swear, if the radiation doesn't kill my cancer that  music will!!  


Because they know that that music has the potential to turn your brain to mush in less than ten minutes and so they don't startle you off the table, they like to say something to get your attention when they reenter the room.  Very thoughtful of them.


So one day last week I received my treatments from two very attractive young nurses.  Now, I got over the embarrassment of the whole process pretty early on and these are medical professionals, so there's no issues here.  When my session was over, they entered the room and one of the girls mindlessly said


"Okay Mr. Price, everything looks really good from here."


"Ladies," I replied, "I can't tell you how gratifying it is to be laying here like this and have you tell me how good it looks."


I left the room and had a smile on my face for the rest of the day.