Marvin Martian

I’ve come to believe that the loneliest place on this planet is the radiation room after the slab they call a door has closed.  There you are, surrounded by seeming science fiction machines and your thoughts, nothing else.  That’s it, you, the machine and your disease. 

No prattle of a chemo room to divert you.  No loved one holding your hand to lean on.  No work to keep your mind elsewhere.   Just you, the machine, your disease and your thoughts.

But then there is humor, at least with the radiation machine I’ve become familiar with.  There’s a click, a hum, then…gods bless the guy that made this machine.  I’m so hoping it wasn’t happenstance that when the machine fires it sounds exactly like Marvin the Martian’s ray gun.

Voice from above “Michael lay still.”

 I smile. 

Thanks Marvin.