For the last three days, I've spent about 25 minutes a day being zapped by this machine:
"Just keep holding still," she said, after about an eternity of inactivity. "My computer's not talking to the machine."
You've got to be kidding me, I thought. I was certain radioactive lasers were about to turn me into swiss cheese. My heart was pounding in my throat, ready to leap right out before the machine could go ballistic on it. Did that count as holding still? I held my breath, just in case.
It's getting less scary by the day. Only 22 treatments left.