Enter the Wu-Tang (36 Hyperbaric Chambers)

Six chamber rides later and I’m a semi-pro, nothing at all close to my pro level of chamber skill after the 20 trips I have scheduled in the big iron cylinder (the funny thing is that I think I’m due for 10-20 more after the graft has been put in place). My arm is looking great, but they want it to improve even more and grow more muscle before they’ll cut me loose. It is amazing. You can tell and see a difference where the muscles are getting larger and spreading throughout the entire area. I’m very excited. Some of the top hand model agencies really think I have a chance at making a serious comeback.

Sitting in the room is pretty amusing. Everyone already has their collar on and is sitting nicely in their chairs. Usually there are three of us, all cancer patients and extremely likable. One gentleman is a bit older, maybe upper sixties. I hope my upper sixties demographic just didn’t get pissed at me. I didn’t say some old fart. Get with it upper sixties, you are a bit older…we still love you. Then there is a little boy who has done close to 50 rides in a row as a part of treatment for an inoperable brain tumor. My sources also tell me the HBO has stopped tumor growth in his brain…amazing.

Yesterday when I was putting on my socks with my head down he walked past me and rubbed his fingers back and forth through my hair. I looked up at him and we just smiled at each other... He is the epitome of all the amazing children I’ve encountered, those who all have the most admirable naïve confidence about their survival. He’s more worried about getting out of the chamber and into his apartment swimming pool. An apartment for dedicated families, living away from their real homes to ensure loved-ones get those long treatments and best chances. I was honored to have him touch my head.

On a less serious note, we meet a little after 8, put on our official gear and settle into our chairs. Your chair is your chair, there’s no debating over who got here first. It has your pillows, water, magazines, cyanide pills, and blankets. A nurse goes on the magical voyage with you. No lighters, phones, electronics, etc. allowed. Apparently, a spark from a Dale, Jr. lighter in a SC chamber…I want to say Spartanburg blew the doors off the sucker…no survivors, except the lighter. Man I’m off on some tangents. The most entertaining aspect of the whole chamber experience is the people. They're some of the nicest, friendliest people I've met at the hospital. A really great and wonderfully committed group. Because so little happens and it’s hard to write an entertaining portrayal of the experience. So here it is:

The doors shut. For 15 minutes the chamber pressurizes (and warms) from one atmosphere (sea level) to two atmospheres. Please, no questions about how we’re not sitting at exact sea level. 1 atmosphere is like being 33ft under water, except you sitting in a chair with your PJ’s, reading a 6-month-old version of some car magazine. Once pressurized, your hoods go on and the oxygen is pumped in. Two hours later the cabin depressurizes, taking 15 minutes, cooling during the process. Off with your hood and your ready for your two hour lunch break, because at 1pm, the party starts all over again.

You finish up around four and wonder, how did I just spend that day? For me, it‘s pretty much doing one of two things, intense finger exercises and sleeping, building up my strength for my next finger workout. I knock out quite a bit of exercises, but honestly, when I can't lift another finger, I'll recline to that third posisition and fall asleep. Similar to airline sleeping, I'm mainly just trying to get the remaining time over with, except I have a blanket covering a plastic head dome, blocking out a few lights to make sleeping and daydreaming that much easier.