"Okay Mr. Young. Today we'll be preparing you for your Gamma Knife. We'll be doing a CT scan and an MRI. There will be injections, very similar to the ones you receive at the dentist, to the 4 spots on your head where we will screw on the head cage. I have some questions to ask first. Oh. Yes?"

"Didn't we date each other about 15 years ago?"

"Um. Ken, right?"

"Right."

"Why yes! How are you? [awkward silence, they both glance at me, the wife]

"Well considering I'm about to have a cage attached to my head before getting radiated...Good! Real good!"

"Good. Nice to see you again. I just have a few questions."

"Shoot!"

"Oh and we'll be giving you a sedative before the procedure."

The nurse looks at her clipboard: "Any allergies? no? Any metal plates? no? Pace-maker or other implants?"

"Just the ones the Aliens inserted in him," I offered. They glance at me.

"And what medications are you taking right now?"

"Trileptal, Cymbalta, Lyrica, Xanax, Klonopin. Oh! And oxycodone on really bad pain days...we call that the rush limbaugh pill as in honey? I really need a rush limbaugh pill."

I snort.

"Any G/U complaints?" [my husband looks at me to translate]

"Yes," I say. "He can't pee very well. Decreased amount of urine produced is a side effect of 2 of his drugs. [my husband scowls at me. What? I mouth & shrug.]

"Any skin issues?"

Mr. Young puts out his left arm, covered in new and unusual skin sores, reddened, blistered skin. She examines it. He flexes his bicep for her, sneaking a side-ways glance.

"What is this from?"

"2 of his drugs list this as a side effect - I know it looks gross, doesn't it?"

"Hmmm, any other side effects from medication?"

"Did he mention changes in sexual function?" I ask sweetly. [ a new glare]

"And also, blurred vision, dry mouth, constipation, [scowls at me again], headaches, dizziness, drowsiness, trouble concentrating...."

"Alrighty!"

"....loss of coordination, muscle weakness, swelling of ankles, the unusual bruising [she glances at his arm briefly] did we mention the peeing thing? [she nods] Oh good. Oh and memory loss!"

"Alrighty then!"

"Here's the Doctor. He'll be giving you those tiny, non-painful injections right now... here we go!"

"SONOFABITCH!"

"Okay. Just a couple more!"

"MOTHEROFGODYOU'VEGOTTOBEKIDDING!"

"I think I'll take that valium now."

"But we don't usually give it until right before he goes into the Gamma Knife...and we usually just give it to the patient."

"No, I'd like the valium right now," I state firmly.

"Alrighty!"

"Hmmmm. Your pulse ox is low, you're only breathing 93% in room air - do you have any underlying lung issues?"

"Well I did smoke cigarettes for 30 years."

"Do you still smoke, Mr. Young?"

"Oh no."

He adds slyly, "And, I might have smoked pot for 30 years also..."

She wheels him to the elevator to take him to his MRI.

"Last time I saw you," he says conversationally, "you were so drunk I had to practically carry you back to your apt. How is your family?" Thwack! " Ouch!" I hear the wheelchair slam into the wall.

I wait for the valium to kick in.