Marked Woman

I got tattooed today.  Four small dots of permanent ink, one on each hip and two at my tailbone, are my personal permanent reminder of the day I officially became a cancer patient. 

I held no illusions that setting up my radiation treatments would be pleasant.  Driving to the hospital this afternoon, NPR’s Terry Gross was interviewing Walt Bogdanich, a New York Times investigative reporter.  The focus of the interview was his investigation of the “hidden dangers of medical radiation”.  As I posted on Facebook, God has a warped sense of irony.

I fought the urge to drive past the hospital for points unknown. I did, however, find the Times article on my phone and share it with the radiation technician.  To my great relief, she was both familiar with the investigation and outraged at the mistakes that had been made.  She assured me that no such incidents have ever occurred in her care.

 It was my understanding that my colon would be once again probed, infused with contrast, and scanned to determine the necessary placement of the radiation.  However, no one told me I would be catheterized to infuse my bladder with contrast as well.  Imagine my surprise when I learned that little tidbit of information.  It took significant self-control to keep from blurting out, “are there any other orifices you intend to violate today?” 

I know from my experience with infertility that there will come a time when I will no longer cringe or feel a loss of dignity in these situations.  One of these days I will see these moments for what they are - simply a means to an end.  Just as the indignity of infertility treatments faded, so shall my discomfort with all of this.  I’m just not there yet.

Next up this week is a second biopsy on Wednesday, followed by a meet and greet with my medical oncologist on Friday.  I am hoping to actually begin treatment sometime next week.  The sooner I can start, the sooner this ends. 

I have faith that one day my body will be free of cancer.  Still, I can’t help but think that I am somehow changed forever. Good or bad, I will never be the same person I was before this diagnosis. I am indelibly marked by far more than ink on my hips and tailbone.  I have to accept that while this experience does not define who I am, it's forever a part of me.