Anne SG and the Big C

Yes, that is a reference to the Rolling Stones’ 1981 album. This was released when I was a kid–and yes, the Stones were “old” by the time I was hitting my teens, but they were still great. I’m probably around the age now that they were when they released Tattoo You, but to me they were old. Positively ancient. But the cool kids loved them.

Last week I got prepped for radiation treatment, which starts Monday. In preparation, I had to have two appointments for taking measurements and in the process, I got five pinhead-sized tattoos on my skin, which will presumably help guide the radiation therapists to make for the most accurate treatment possible. Having chickened out of getting a tattoo in the 90s, I’m thrilled to now be one of the cool kids with not one but five tattoos.

The fact that I have to have radiation has proved to be more psychologically challenging than I had expected. I described the feeling to one person as being knocked flat, then learning to walk again, only to be knocked down again. I have been working so hard to recover, only to learn from my new oncologist that more treatment is needed. Though I don’t expect this to be as physically challenging as chemotherapy, the 6 weeks of 5 days/week radiation is probably going to cause fatigue and skin irritation so I am told. Given my history, that probably means going to bed at 5pm and having a lot of pain.

The entire process has been surreal. The high-tech nature of radiation is both highly personalized and dehumanizing at the same time. They spend a lot of time taking preliminary x-rays and measurements–I have spent a good hour lying on a white table with an x-ray machine rotating around me and computers whirring and making determinations about where and how to radiate me. The treatment is tailored specifically to my body. But lying there, I feel less like a human than a science experiment. I hardly recognize myself anymore, with all the scars, the tattoos, the crazy-short (gray) hair. I keep wondering when I’ll look in the mirror and see myself again. Or maybe I’ll just get used to the new me. We shall see.