At least it did to me.
Rico had a rough night. He was understandably more apprehensive than I was about today. It is after all, his leg. On the other hand, I was ready to go after it with Dr. Mayo's rusty spoon the day we found out. Though I suppose radiation is a more humane (and effective) form of treatment - even if they are microwaving your quads.
We consider ourselves extremely fortunate that Mayo decided to build their radiation treatment center three blocks from our house. I remember us watching the construction site and saying to each other what a strange place it seemed to be for a cancer care center (to be fair it is in the middle of a cornfield). Today it didn't seem nearly so strange. Today we have new thoughts about things. If someone decides to build a nuclear fallout shelter in the park behind us, while manufacturing parachutes and an ebola vaccine in our basement, we will breathe not a word, and welcome them with open arms.
The treatment center comes equipped with a mini bar of coffees and teas and ciders and cookies. There are locker rooms, big screen TVs, squishy couches annnnnnnnnnd the world's most depressing library:
I always think I should bring one of these home to Yoda, and then I read it and realize that that none of these books depict what she's actually living with - so we haven't read any yet. We'll see.