Have you ever seen a radiation mask? They look like old hockey masks, like the one Jason Vorhees wears, except these are custom molded and have latches on the side that lock into the bed of a radiation machine. I suppose its important to restrict your mobility when the room is turned into a life-sized microwave.
The rays in there weren’t physically visible or painful, but I could still feel and hear them. I swear I could. If I closed my eyes at just the right moment, I could even see little flashes of light escaping my eyelids. But this was the extent to which I felt the therapy. 15 minutes later, the Megatron had finished its daily orbit around my skull and delivered its dose of radiation.
I could lie and say that I made use of the time. That the flashes of light under my eyelids were inspirational. That I used the Megatron’s time in orbit to meditate and ponder life.
Its not that I didn’t try. I tried insanely hard. It just didn’t happen.
All I really wanted was to be somewhere else. That’s where all my thoughts went to: somewhere else. And before I knew it, the session was over, saved by the clock once again.
Every now and then, I close my eyes and wake up inside the microwave. A masked reflection laid out across the Megatron. Locked, motionless, thoughtless.
Admittedly, I tense up a bit. I clench and freak out about not making the best use of my time. Painfully ironic.
