Radiation department UCSF Medical Center, Mission Bay, San Francisco

Large automatic doors swing open into the main control room 
I walk towards a row of monitors lined up around the far end of the room
name, date of birth a technician asks me.
On the table an iPad
We have Pandora she tells me, you can pick your music
I type in Amma Bhajans and pick one from “Amma Sings at Home”
This ritual is repeated every day
for thirty days.
Studies show thirty to be the magic number
not 35, not 25…. 30
It’s all about percentages and decreasing the chances of this cancer making a come back within the next three years.
By day three the technicians know to turn the volume up to concert level,
by day twelve Amma’s bhajans are already set up and I pick two for the day
So sweet to be seen and acknowledged in this way.

And so it begins

I go to the next room, place my waist pack, jacket, glasses and phone on a bench, and walk over to the metal table.
I climb up and lay back with my head gently cradled in a foam pillow custom made, molded to my head.
Specially made “scatter guards” go in my mouth, covering my teeth to protect from radiation bouncing off metal crowns.
The “lollipop” goes in next to keep my tongue still.
Finally the mask is placed over my face.
It’s made of plastic mesh that was custom molded to fit over my face, neck and shoulders. 
Once in place it gets secured tightly to the table with clamps.

My head held completely still.

Everyone leaves the room.
It’s just me with Amma’s voice filling the space.
The scanner starts up, circulating above my face like a planet.
A pause while it sends a set of coordinates to the radiation machine.
Like a map pinpointing where the rays need to converge on my neck and tongue, and the degree of radiation for each area.
At least this is how I kind of understand all this.

In this pause everything seems to stop, there is only stillness and Amma’s voice.

A clunking sound as machines adjust, confirming the message was received and the radiation machine has been programmed just for me. 
Loud whirring and buzzing sounds never before heard, yet now so familiar, start up. 
A large metal disk that hovers about a foot above my face, like a sun, slowly circulates back and forth across my face from left shoulder to right. 
From a large, black square like lens, rays that I can neither see nor feel are sent out.
Like an eye at the center of this disc it reminds me of a black hole receding into the universe. 

My mala in my right hand, I slide the beads one at a time across my fingers.
My mantra repeats itself while Amma’s voice transports me to a sacred place on the edge of the Arabian sea.
I have a felt sense of peacefully floating.

After about five minutes everything stops and I feel the relief of the clamps on the mask being released one by one. 
The technicians are back quickly removing the mask.
I pop out the lollipop and scatter guards. I stand up slowly, come back to ground, collect my things, thank the crew, see you tomorrow we exchange.

I make my way to the exit as I hear Amma calling out Siva, Siva, hara, hara to the one who creates, protects, and transforms the universe.

 

With much gratitude to Maryna, Amy, Rainier, and Rosanne for their presence, gentleness, care and kindness.

The mask

Arati Om
June 24, 2003
18 down, 12 to go