Sergej’s mom is a doctor – she was trained somewhere in the Soviet Union – I believe in the Ukraine, and lived in St. Petersburg where Sergej was born before moving to Leipzig. The next day, while we were there to use the barbeque in the garden, Sergej’s mom gave me a small bottle of iodine labelled in what I understand is Ukrainian. She explained that I should paint a net of the iodine on some part of my body several days before going to Chernobyl until the patches of iodine no longer absorb into the body and disappear.
The idea, I understand, is that the body absorbs the non-radioactive iodine and, having done so, will absorb far less iodine-131 – a particularly nasty iodine isotope often found shortly after nuclear disasters; so one of the acute treatments given to people is iodine tablets – I would guess only or most effective prior to significant exposure. When absorption of the patches of iodine slows it indicates the rate of iodine uptake has decreased. Iodine-131 has a half-life of about eight days; since Chernobyl blew up some 26 years ago, there shouldn’t be much iodine-131 left. While academically there shouldn’t be much concern the sarcophagus, the building hastily built over the remains of reactor four and is to be covered in the next few years by a new structure which is designed to much, is said to have many holes, cracks, and leaks in it – so who knows what radioactive material might still be emitted.
Seizing the opportunity for free medical advice I also wielded my toe – which had a small bump next to the toenail. I was given some aloe vera and the recommendation to wrap it with some tape. The advice seems to be working; I decided to try the iodine patches – while I’m not particularly concerned about iodine-131, it can’t do much harm. I also used the iodine (also a sanitizer) on the bump and taped some aloe vera to it (update: the only continued use to which I’ve put the iodine). So far, the iodine patches are absorbing and the toe seems to be in better shape. I like the Cyrillic writing on the bottle and may keep it as a souvenir, despite my uber-weight consciousness.