Plausible deniability cape.

Here’s the thing about cancer. There’s a lot of poking and prodding and tests and needles and shit like that.  And well, a guy’s gotta find something to laugh about, particularly when you’re wearing one of those gowns with your arse hanging out. 

Take the Bone Scan. If you’ve never had the pleasure let me tell you how it goes. You’re injected with radioactive material and put in this giant noisy tube so the radioactive bits can show them where the cancer may be lurking.

It’s kinda like shooting you up and giving you radioactive blood. Like Spiderman except as everyone in the whole world knows, Spidey wasn’t injected with anything he was bit by a spider. 

Anyway, I’m getting geared up for the procedure and this nice nurse comes into the room holding a metal jar with a needle in it. Everything in the room is shiny and metal like the lab where the Incredible Hulk became incredible after the gamma rays hit him.

The nurse explains the Bone Scan procedure and what’s going to happen and I say to her: “Which power do I get?”

“What do you mean?” she says. I’ve confused her. And maybe she’s not a big Incredible Hulk fan.

I try again: “Which super hero power do I get?  

She just looks at me. She clearly hasn’t seen the Avengers. So I spelled it out a little more:

“I guess there aren’t too many good super hero powers left?”

Finally she laughs a little.

So I ask: “Is plausible deniability still there?”

“I think it is,” she says, smiling.

So that’s what I got. My radioactive super hero power is plausible deniability. Granted, Wolverine’s self-healing powers might be a little more useful, but I’m hoping I get a cape. It will help cover my arse in those hospital gowns.


Pazopanib or Sunitinib

Give me odds.