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125 you." BEING A VOLUNTEER + Alex signed in at the nursing desk, where one of the regular ward nurses greeted him. "Hi, DMT-22," she said. "How are you doing?" "Fine, although it's weird being called DMT-22." "Oh, don't worry. We're used to it. Here, let me put your ID band on She attached this identification to his wrist, then walked Alex down to Room 531. At first, we used whatever room happened to be available in the Research Center. It was best to have a quiet one—far from the nurses’ station, away from the bustling kitchen, but not too close to the double doors leading onto 5-East. Some days we had little choice about which room we could use, and the setting could be grim. For example, occasionally we had to use a lead- lined room at the very end of the ward designed for patients who were receiving radioactive implants for cancer. Other days we might need to use the "traction room," where patients stayed who suffered from mul- tiple trauma and fractured bones. A "cage" over the bed provided several convenient access points from which to attach ropes, pulleys, and cables for suspending casted broken limbs. A few volunteers professed that they didn't mind the cage, but I found it intimidating and disconcerting. After one or two sessions maneuvering around it, I made certain to disassemble this structure before we got started. Another room on the same end of the ward was the bone marrow trans- plant room. Absolutely sanitized, with a ceiling full of high-powered fans and two sets of double doors partitioning off an anteroom, it was a germ- free environment where these highly infection-prone patients could remain in relative safety. Thankfully, there were switches with which I could turn off the fans. We needed a nicer room. I requested to remodel a room on the ward over which we would have scheduling priority. The budget in my grant from the National Institute on Drug Abuse included funds for this renova- tion. We chose Room 531.