It was a much different thing to have an X-Ray done in the 1940s then a cat scan or an MRI in 2023. Everything from the room, to the equiptement to the doctors clothes were so very different as so much more primitive; so much more medieval.
Werner sat on the side of the bed. He was used to the heavy smock he'd had to wear when parts of his brain had been x-rayed. But the lead blanket that Wojcieshowski brought in weighed more than it cost and almost pinned the poor young man to the operating table. "We don't have a lighter one, my apologies." Wojciechoski explained. "That's the only one we have. They usually don't use them at all here...you know why. I always insist on using them, I believe radiation harms more than we know."
"I know. It can cause other cells to get cancer."
"You're well informed."
"I have cancer."
"We'll see." Wojciechowski replied. "If you're suffering from brain cancer your skull will be abnormal. Do you know which side the tumor is on?"
"It's on the left side." Werner replied. "Right about here." He pointed at the place, he'd had to do that so many times already. Wojciechowski positioned him around so that the X-Ray machine could take the best picture. It looked like a big lamp above him, not even nearly as modern as anything he'd been scanned with before.
"We're going to leave the room, turn it on, and then come back in after when it's done." Wojciechowski said. Dr. Ziegler was with them that day; he said it was because of how expensive the equiptement was but Werner suspected he just wanted to be there. It was a fantastic thing to see. This giant arm with a lamp bent over Werner's head and the heavy lead blanket to keep out scattering x-rays. It looked like something out of a horror novel; especially because the walls were grey stone and there were no windows. "It's going to be alright." Wojciechowski reassured him. But Werner didn't need any reassurance, he'd done this so many times. Wojciechowski could tell that the young lad wasn't nervous in the slightest, and that made him believe that this soldier wasn't lying. Anyone in their right mind, or anyone who'd never had an X-Ray would be scared to death. But Werner was calm, he almost seemed bored to the pole.
Dr. Ziegler and Wojciechowski left the room. Once outside, Wojciechowski turned the light on. They couldn't see inside, but they waited in anticipation. It wouldn't take long.
"Do you really think he has a brain tumor?" Dr. Ziegler asked in a hushed voice.
"I used to have my doubts, but the way he lay there...he'd definitely had many x-rays, and no healthy person has that...I think he's being honest."
"But the army wouldn't have recruited someone with brain cancer." Dr. Ziegler argued. "They couldn't, it wouldn't even help them, cancer patients aren't the most functional especially not if it's in a later stage..." He was baffled, but he still didn't believe it. "He can't have a tumor, it's impossible."
"You're one to first believe things when you see them with your own eyes, that's what makes you a bad doctor." Wojciechowski said. He threw a stern glance at Dr. Ziegler, who returned his gaze with an unhappy scowl. Both of them knew that the polish doctor was right. Dr. Ziegler knew the book by heart, but he wouldn't add any pages too it. Wojciechowski was a revolutionary in medecine. "Let's go back to poor Werner, shall we?"
In the mean time, Werner had been lying on the table. He'd closed his eyes, the light was bad for him, he knew it. He wondered if the x-rays he'd received today were more harmfull; probably. Even if the rays didn't change, more of his skin was exposed and the beams weren't as concentrated on one part of his body at those of the modern times. And then, as the machine above him shone through his skull and into his brain, a thought popped up in his mind. What if there was no tumor? What if when he'd woken up here, the tumor was gone? It was possible wasn't it? Because he hadn't felt sick or tired, not more than a normal man would from all the work. What if there was no tumor? For the first time in his life that thought scared him; Wojciechowski and Ziegler alike would think he was crazy. But no tumor would mean he could actually live for more than a few more weeks or months. It meant he could fall in love and start a family...of course only if he survived Auschwitz.
All of a sudden the doctors burst in. "How was it, Werner, not too bad I hope?" Wojciechowski said as he and Ziegler lifted the lead canvas of their patients body. "The film will show the images..." Wojciechowski muttered. He went into the same state as Dr. Ziegler did when waiting and thinking. He couldn't stand still, he packed away everything he could, rolled the machine back, took the pillow Werner's head had rested on, fluffed it up and put it back down. Dr. Ziegler chewed his fingernails. The two doctors were both very excited. Werner simply sat on the edge of the table and waited for the results.
"Here they are, alright. Good. Come over here, Werner." He took the film that had been made. "We'll go to the other room, there's a projector there right? We'll be able to show the photos?" Dr. Ziegler nodded. The little parade of men headed to the other room, the room adjacent to the one with the terrifying x-ray machine.