Gently, the nurse takes his arm and injects the IV, which in the coming hours will be the gateway for chemicals that until recently were unknown to me: rituximab, cyclophosphamide, doxorubicin. In recent days, clumps of hair have fallen relentlessly, leaving the shower tray saddened by a wavy farewell to a youth now at a standstill. And yet, many still resist the onslaught, hiding behind a cap that will be their new companion in the coming months.