The room where radiation is administered has the appearance of a scientific experiment or alien abduction. As I lie on my back, with my arms up and holding onto handlebars, a round device surrounds me. The mechanism aims to destroy the tumors attempting to duplicate and grow.
The nurses pull a sheet underneath me to meticulously position my body in perfect alignment with the markings and stickers applied during a prior consultation. These stickers stay on your body even during showering and regular activities while you undergo several weeks of radiation treatment. Additionally, they dipped a needle into ink and created a tiny dot tattoo to indicate the exact location of the tumor. This small, intricate reminder will remain with you for the rest of your life.
Afterward, they exit the room to commence the process. I anxiously await the sound of a traditional pencil sharpener, first once, then two times, and finally, the apparatus shifts to my back for two more rotations. Then, I can liberate my hands, descend, return to the changing room, gaze at my crimson torso, put on my clothes, and depart home.