“It tolls for thee”
But not me.
Twenty one visits, more than 600 miles driving, 60 grays of radiation (equivalent to 25,000 years of background radiation) hopefully delivered to the cancerous part of my prostate; and my radiotherapy treatment is now complete.
I was aware that there is a tradition of ringing a bell when a patient is declared cancer free; but unaware that the practice of campanology now extended to marking the completion of treatment.
But the cancer care unit at the Freeman hospital has such a bell and I hear it being rung most days.
A little research revealed this was a tradition that originated in a faraway land, home to the orange shitgibbon and diabetes. Suitable for a more performative “look at me, I endured something” culture, rather than the British approach of hiding in a corner and hoping that nobody notices
Plus, although finishing radiotherapy is a relief, it is by no means the end of the journey. There is the possibility of side effects arising over the next couple of weeks, and I will not know whether the treatment has been successful until September. So I am not convinced that ringing a bell at this point is appropriate.
Even more troubling, when you ring the bell, everyone looks at you and claps. I have no interest in being stared at and applauded. And what about the poor bastards, half asleep in wheelchairs, whose treatment will only end when they die? No bell ringing for them, ever.
But my wife wanted to take a photo, so I stood next to the bloody thing while she took a quick snap and I hoped nobody noticed.
Radiotherapy: Done.
Bell ringing: Failed
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