Radioactive observations:

I’m returning from another gamma ray chamber visit and I’m standing in the changing room butt ass naked. I’m looking at all the weight I’ve lost and the new scars on my body. Then I take a peek at Charmander. Poor guy is fried down there looking like a burnt glizzy resting on two hot coals . Mirror mirror on the wall…

WTF happened to my balls? Don’t worry friend, we shall return in full Spartan Glory!

The Medport bulges out like it’s own tumor. The scar line healed fairly well. But the dissolvable stitches didn’t fall out and it looks like I’ve got tampon strings protruding through my chest. Maybe that will help control the bleeding when they operate again to remove it eventually. I’ve been cranky lately. Maybe I’m PMSing…

When I last spoke to the radiation specialist yesterday I asked about follow up after these treatments were completed. I mentioned I’d like to have the original doctor do the colonoscopy. He was kind enough to put me under sedation so I only had to worry about waking up to a concluded prison rape scene. Instead he told me it would be the surgeon who, I not so warmly refer to as The Rapist. Not to be confused with a Therapist. Both can really get inside your head though. I literally told Dr Chowe that my last experience with him had me calling the rape hot line. I imagine he spends most of his free time with Hookers and Blow.

With a 6-8 week cool down after the Chernobyl experiments they are putting me through I’ll finally have my results. If I do need further treatment I’ll simply reach out to Elon Musk so I can continue my radiation treatment in space. And regardless if I’m completely cured or not at least I’ll be able to drink the water in Flint Michigan now.