The process

So the process goes like this.

I drive about 15 minutes to the cancer center, which shares a parking lot with one of the local hospitals. They also share valets, so I leave my car with a valet and head inside.

I have to check in at the front desk. Sometimes there's a line, and sometimes there isn't. The receptionists have gotten to know me, so once I get to the desk, it takes very little time.

They do the typing to find me, check me in, check my temperature (COVID-19 precaution) and say, "Okay, you can head downstairs."

Downstairs is the basement of the building where the radiation department is, along with the color-themed machines I've talked about. 

In the waiting room, there are screens around the room that lists patients' last name and first initial. When it's your turn to go, your name pops up on the screen. The background of the screen that shows your name features the color of the machine you go to. I've been mostly on green, which is the lowest radiation level.

Each machine has three dressing rooms where I change from my clothes into a typically lovely hospital gown.

Then I sit and scroll through social media, emails or text messages while I wait for them to call me.

When I leave the dressing room, I have to take my pocketbook, shirt and bra with me.

Once I get into the treatment room, I put my stuff down on a bench, then use a stepstool to climb up on the table. 

I have to scoot my butt right against that wedge, then they put that maroon bolster pillow under my legs.

Then I lie back into the mold, which is under the sheet.

If you remember, early on, they created a custom mold for me to position me correctly on the table. I laid down on this squishy bag and the techs fluffed it all around me. Then they used a vacuum hose to suck out all the air. And that made it stiff and hard. I fit right in it with my head turned to the left and my right arm at a 90-degree angle above my head. I know it doesn't look like the purple bag below is actually fitted to anyone, but it is.

The pink light around the top of the room is not medically necessary. It's for decoration only. It fades from pink to red to orange to yellow to green to blue to purple then pink again. It is actually kind of soothing.

The ceiling panels are just that. It can't be real sky because this room is in the basement. But it certainly looks like blue sky. The green room has fall leaves on trees against a blue sky. The yellow room has spring trees against a blue sky. They look kind of like crape myrtles. And the blue room has just puffy white clouds. I never made it to the red room, so I don't care what's in there!

The techs use the sheet to move me around to make sure I'm in the right spot on the table. Then the round part of that machine that is hanging over the table rotates around me. It stops for intervals in three different spots, and I don't feel a single thing. I just lie there until the techs come back in and tell me I'm done.

Then it's back to the dressing room. Back to the elevator to go back to the first floor. Back to the valets and back home.