Marked

The nurse came on time and Alexandra got to meet her today. A jab in the thigh this time and away she went.

Back to the clinic this afternoon for my x-ray therapy simulation. I was under the impression this was just going to be taking a few more measures and aiming the lights as though they were x-rays. But of course... it had to be a bit more complicated.

They lie me down on the bed which goes in to the scanner and they strap my mask on my face and connect it to the bed. I am therefore pinned to the bed. I am then told to not move and that the measuresements are as precise as 1 millimetre. I am then, kindly, told that it will "only" last THIRTY MINUTES. Thirty minutes of not moving one millimetre. I was sweating buckets. It's amazing how much physical work it is to not move. Then of course the mind desperately wants to move. Not because it needs to. But just because someone told me not to. It's like when you look over a really high ledge and there's a tiny little part of you that wants to jump. There was this reasonably big part of me that wanted to shake and nod my head up and down and back and forth. But I didn't.

As he took measures he would come back in and draw on my mask with a smelly marker. I couldn't see what he was doing as my eyes were closed under the mask. Then he started drawing on my chest. He would draw some sort of symbol and then cover it up with a plastic transpared sort of plaster. That was OK. I was prepared for that. Of course he said he was "almost finished" long before he was actually finished. Finally he comes at me and says now I am going to tatoo you and it will sting. I looked up and said "are you kidding?". He said no and that it was no big deal. I haven't quite figured out yet why cutting me up and picking me with needles is always such a minor aspect to the nurses and doctors that they don't even think it needs mentioning let alone compassion. He then proceeded to tatoo a black cross right in the middle of my chest. Not fun.

I was finally allowed to go and went home to lie down...

I had always said I would never ever get a tatoo. I always thought "pay someone to hurt me with tiny needles and inject ink in to my body with an image that will remain permanently in my skin? ... no thanks"

Now I am the not so proud owner of a cross tatoo in the middle of my chest. The Catholic side of my family is going to be so proud. I, on the other hand, would have gladly abstained.