I have two expectations going into my treatment:
1.) Chemotherapy is administered in a Clockwork Orange style: doctors are going to strap me to a chair, tape back my eyelids and inject poison into my veins until I scream while white coats surrounding me furiously take notes in their laboratory books.
2.) The facilities at MGH resemble a spa-like resort where I'll sit atop the penthouse suite overlooking Boston's skyline while nurses and murses (male nurses) are waiting on me hand and foot.