My New Ink

I haven't felt much like writing recently.

I've had my hackles up all week about the Susan G. Komen foundation dropping (and then reinstating) their funding for Planned Parenthood.  It makes me feel like the charity synonymous with what I'm currently experiencing let me (and millions of other women) down, and by doing so diminished the significance of my own experiences.

But some decisions about my treatment have been made, so an update seems appropriate.

"Cancer Council" has decided that the best plan of action for me is the traditional six week once daily radiation therapy.  The doctor is working on establishing my "treatment plan" right now.  The actual treatment may start this coming week, or (more likely) the week after.  This past Thursday I had the CAT scan that will help the doc establish the plan.  And I got my tattoo.

No...I didn't get an eighth note or treble clef or the comedy/tragedy masks inked onto my body (though I have considered all of these at some point in the past and rejected the idea simply because I hate pain).  One of the things many people don't know about radiation therapy is that patients are quite often tattooed to make sure the external beam radiation hits the same spot during each of the treatments.  The tattoo helps the radiation technologist to line everything up correctly.  Some people refuse the tattoo and have to be super careful not to wash of the markings made with a magic marker.  I opted for the permanent tattoo for two reasons:  (1) if I ever have to be treated with radiation again in the future, the medical professionals will be able to see exactly where I was radiated this time; and (2) I really don't want to futz around with trying not to wash off my temporary markings in the shower.  So I have six tiny dots permanently marked onto my skin.  There is one on each side of my torso and several on the breast where the cancer was.  When radiation starts I may understand their locations better.  But for now...I've had my first tattoo!