Shaping up to start treatment

Photo: Tony Miller

IN position . . . as I lie on the bed with laser beams for alignment

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Chronicle Managing Editor David Whaley has been diagnosed with throat cancer and is sharing his experiences with the readers.

Part THREE: Our first visit to Christie and the man behind the mask.

WHEN told that a special mask would be made before my radiotherapy could start I made the assumption that this was some sort of protective guard to shield my brain and other areas from the daily barrage.

Not at all. What the mask does is secure you to the bed of the radiotherapy machine in exactly the same place every time, so the computerised beam hits the desired spot.

Even though my 16 days of treatment will be at the Christie Oldham, the masks are made in the mould room at Christie’s main centre in Didsbury so it was a dart around the M60 to the Stockport pyramid during a morning rush hour. Don’t envy anyone who does that daily!

Once there we met mould room manager Tony Stanton who explained the procedure and how technology was about to save me several repeat visits in the coming days.

They used to make a plaster of Paris impression of your face which was then used as a mould to create a 3D model and, from that, the mask.

But not any more. Tony produced a rigid white plastic sheet that had a series of clips on the outside. This piece of thermo plastic was about to reduce the days of work to a matter of minutes.

First I was positioned on a bed — an exact replica of that in the unit — using laser beams for alignment.

Then he put the plastic into a vat of hot water. With the help of his two assistants, Nicola and Phil, the now flimsy and almost clear sheet was lifted, dried and then placed over my head, neck and shoulders.

For a few seconds it was very hot (Tony did warn me) but quickly cooled.

The clips were fastened to the bed, the fluid plastic was then pressed into the contours of my face and beyond.

They cut a whole in the mesh for me to breathe more easily — the sheet did have tiny holes in it but it was a relief — and, as the sheet cooled, it hardened and went white again.

A couple of reheats with a blower to get my collar bones exactly right and there it was — all done inside 20 minutes — the mask that is going to be a very, very close companion on this journey.

Photographer Tony Miller had accompanied my wife Wendy and me and admitted it was one of the strangest assignments he had ever been given - and not just because he had to take pictures of a bare-chested, middle-aged me...

I think it is important that readers see what is involved, to dispel some of the fear factor and understand what fantastic care is taken by the technicians and nurses looking after you, explaining what is to happen every step of the way.

From the mould room it was a short walk to the CT scanner. There I was back on a bed and the mask was fitted, the clips on it fastened to the bed. The radiographer suggested I try to push myself further up the bed and I felt myself click into place.

The ladies then set to work with lasers, sticky tape and pens to mark reference points on the mask, which will be used for precise settings once the angles to attack the tumour are worked out on the computer. How clever is that!

And so we head back to Christie Oldham and the start of the treatment in a few days’ time.


AMONG the overwhelming number of well-wishers this week was a call from former Latics chief executive Alan Hardy who won his big match with prostate cancer. He’s in our team now.

And this story is sure to bring back memories for members of the Throat Cancer Foundation.

Their founder and chief executive Jamie Rae heard about Christie’s decision to allow me access to chronicle the experience and is sending the articles via Facebook to their supporters nationwide. I hope it helps. Keep smiling!

Next week: Christie Oldham as the radiotherapy begins.