Book Pregnant is the very clever term coined by a group of bloggers, to indicate that stage where an author is almost ready to launch their work into the world.

Sex, Drugs, Rock ‘n Roll, and a Tiara is pressing on my bladder, kicking me in the kidney… Really, I SO feel ready to pop this baby out.

Except, some problems came up with formatting for my pictures. And my captions. And the oh-so-clever links to Spotify I inserted at the top of each chapter.

I have a formatting genius helping me with these issues, but in the meantime, in honor of it being two years ago this week that I started the radiation part of my cancer journey, here’s an excerpt from the chapter titled:

Joe Manganiello Needs to Stop Following Me.

It’s a fine thing when you go to meet your radiation oncologist, and everywhere you turn, Joe Manganiello is giving you that “Hey Baby!” look.

Sadly, Joe wasn’t there in person. Just his impressive biceps and artfully scruffy face, all flirty from the cover of WebMD. There had to be at least two dozen copies strewn about the large, comfortable waiting room.

It felt like his eyes were following and undressing me.

Do you want to see my boobs, too, Joe? Why not? Everyone else has…

…I was eager to get the radiation started, get it over with. That wasn’t going to happen.

The next step was coming in, a week later, to do a radiation simulation with the radiology techs. Basically a dry run to troubleshoot any problems and make sure once the actual zapping began, that it would be quick and easy.  I lay down on the long table thingie that would slide in and out of the hole in the big round tube. Yeah, not so vaguely sexual.

The machine was called TomoTherapy… 

Peter, the tech, used a CT scan to get me into the correct position, then used a device that blew Styrofoam into a mold that would hold my back at the precise angle so that Tommy could zap Laverne and only Laverne. Then he turned on laser guide lights, got out a tattoo gun, and made three markings on my chest, below my boobage, right, left, and center, for future lineups. I was hoping for butterflies or something fun, but all I got were three tiny black dots.

There was a hand-grip thing above my head. Peter had me grip it with both hands, then frowned. “That’s not going to work.” It brought Laverne into the correct position, which was good but also brought Shirley into the line of fire. So he had me turn my left arm down to my side. That almost worked.

Peter frowned again. “We’re going to have to tape your left breast down to get it out of the way. Is that okay with you?” After all I had gone through so far, was I going to quibble about a little medical tape? Of course not.

I also had to turn my head a certain way with a roll of surgical tape tucked under my chin. So, one hand above my head, the other at my side, my head turned… Glad Joe M wasn’t watching this part; it wasn’t a particularly sexy pose. It was like I was playing a solo game of Radiation Twister.

There’s more, but I’m hoping you’ll read the whole thing. Also, there’s music. Below is the mini-playlist for this chapter, which you can click and play right here, if you like.  (I’m all about consent.)

Fight The Good Fight is the song I assigned to my journey as a whole, and as a ringtone, to all my doctors.  Buster Voodoo – well, a lot of cancer treatment reminds me of voodoo magic. I don’t have to explain Radiation Vibe, do I?

If you want to add Sex, Drugs, Rock ‘n Roll, and a Tiara to your Goodreads TBR list, that would be very cool. If you’d like a review copy, and we haven’t already discussed this, leave a comment below (make sure your profile links to something so I can track you down!), because that would be even MORE awesome. Better even than Radiation Twister.

Thanks! Stay sexy, and healthy!