I had been through this before when Linda’s breast cancer metastasized to her brain. So, this time, I was not shocked. Claustrophobic Corinne, on the other hand, was silently shaken when she heard what must come before radiation.

Technicians would make a form-fitted mask, which would be used to attach her head to the table during treatments. The mask would hold her neck in one precise position, so that each day the rays would strike exactly the same tissue on her neck. While she was assured the mask was light and full of holes and she wouldn’t feel closed in, she did feel closed in. And bolted down. She couldn’t open her eyes, and it was so tight it crushed her ears. (Halfway through the treatments, we learned that holes could be cut for her ears, and she figured out how to open her eyes with the mask on.)

The tattoo requirement sounds more shocking than it is. After exactly lining up the crosshairs of the targeting lasers, a tiny dot of a tattoo – barely visible – was applied to Corinne’s chest, again so that the x-rays could be precisely targeted each day.