Well, today was the day they did the set-up for my radiation. My formerly private bosom got drawn on with a sharpie, examined, and more photographed than various starlets and what can only be described as comedy boobs. But at least they didn't use tattoos as markers for the radiation to come. When I get tattooed, I like to choose the pattern and location. I'm funny like that.
I will start radiation at 7 am every weekday starting this coming Wednesday. This will work out great; Fred can work from home until I get back from radiation every morning. Liv, who likes to sleep late, will probably not even notice I'm gone.
Thus far, the experience has been great. The radiologist/oncologist is gentle, polite, pleasant, Latin, and very easy on the eyes. The radiation tech I met today was also most of those qualities and, best of all, from a small town in Missouri I happen to know well. We had all kinds of fun things to talk about.
The downside to not having tattoos is that I have to be very careful not to wash off the sharpie marks. At present, they are visible even above my crew neck tshirt, which looks a little weird. As it's considerably less of a fashion issue than the absence of hair, I'll surely deal. After coping with that hellacious chemo, I can make due. H3ll, after that hellacious chemo, I can pretty much do anything. (Except, perhaps, get out of a bean bag chair unassisted. Unrelated, but nonetheless true.)