For some reason, radiation therapists work in darkened rooms. Besides creating a serious challenge for a photographer, this atmosphere makes their work appear even more mysterious and spooky. But I doubt that is their intent.

The therapists take great care to check and double-check their preparations before they leave the room and start the machine to do its work. I was reassured when I saw that, prior to the first radiation session, a tech took a digital picture of Corinne, then attached it to the computer file on the screen with her prescribed placements and dosages. Each day, after Corinne is gowned and walks into the darkened room, her photo (with the other information) is displayed prominently on a large computer screen near the door. I’m sure this protocol is designed to prevent the patient from getting someone else’s treatment.

This makes sense to me because the radiation operation is run like a factory (or a car wash), processing many patients through each day. It’s clear to see how a mistake could be made. And a mistake here could be dangerous. As I’ve said before, I consider it my duty as a Caregiver to know what the doctors plan to do and to know what they are doing; my vigilance has caught and corrected errors.

With radiation (as with surgery), I’m not really informed as to the plan and I’m not allowed to watch. I must blindly trust that a mistake won’t be made. This makes radiation almost as scary to me as it is to Corinne.