Oral cancer patients going through radiation wear a mask. It’s not one I ever want to wear again. It fit so tightly that my eyes were pressed shut and my skin popped out from the mesh holes leaving an impression for 30 minutes after treatment.
The mask was marked with x’s so the radiation beams were lined up precisely. There was a hole at the mouth and a gauze enwrapped tongue depressor was secured to keep my tongue in position. You can’t tell, but it was thick enough to keep my upper jaw out of the line of radiation. It was a challenge not to gag!
It was a dehumanizing experience, one I don’t want to remember, but it saved my life….how could I just throw it out? When the radiation therapist asked me if I wanted to keep my mask, I said yes, with hesitation. It sat in the corner of my office. I glanced at it frequently as I was piecing my life back together.
I felt like I couldn’t completely heal without doing something with it. I needed closure and it came in the form of art. Colorful electric wires were attached to the mesh signifying the ‘radiation fry.’ A corroded license plate represents my throat and neck. A piece of drift wood modeled my worn out, withered-with-harsh-conditions body.
I felt imprisoned while going through treatment so I put jail bars in the art, in between which I copied and pasted notes from cards I received from friends and their words of courage, strength and friendship. At my ‘Celebration of Life Party,’ I asked all my special friends to sign the frame. I couldn’t have gotten through those treatments without being surrounded by friends and family.
I took the art work to a few lectures long ago, as a visual, but today I simply show this picture in a slide. Today, 14 years later, I have the Radiation Mask Art, but it resides in my basement collecting dust. I still can’t throw it out.