My First Tattoo

Today, at the age of 48, I got my first tattoo. And my second and my third.

This surprising occurrence (to those who know me) took place at James Cook University Hospital, in Middlesbrough, after I went in to have the ‘Planning CT Scan’ two weeks prior to starting my radiotherapy.
First, a bit of background. If you’re reading my blog for the first time you might not know that in January I was diagnosed with B-cell Lymphoma, a type of blood cancer, and subsequently had five months of intensive chemotherapy treatment, necessitating me spending rather a lot of time as an in-patient in hospital (a new experience for me). The scan I had after the chemotherapy showed that I had had a ‘very excellent response’ to the treatment and that I was in ‘complete metabolic remission’ - meaning that the cancer had, to all intents and purposes, gone. However, just to be absolutely sure that there are no stray cells hanging around from which it might grow back, I have to have three weeks of radiotherapy treatment, starting on the 14th of August. 

And so, back to today’s scan and my tattoos. The scan is so that they know exactly where to target the x-rays (radiotherapy being basically a concentrated beam of high-energy x-rays (my radiographer friends might be able to correct me here)). Before I had the scan I had to lie on a bed with my hands clasped behind my head.  Underneath my top half was a weird sort of air-bag filled with little beads (like a bean-bag).  Four staff members, two on each side, pushed the ‘bean bag’ up against me while the air was being pumped out of it so that it formed a rigid shell around my torso, but I was still able to get in and out of it. The point of this was to make sure that I am lying in exactly the same position each time that I have the radiotherapy. Once that was done they used a black marker pen to draw some dots on my chest (one on either side and one in the middle) and then I had the scan. I have had several CT scans over the past few months and am getting quite used to it. This was one of the ones where they inject a special dye into my veins which will show up on the scan and it was over in a few minutes. 

After that came the great excitement of getting my first tattoos. They had told me in advance that I would be having these and I was looking forward to being properly ‘cool’ and ‘down with the youth’ for the first time in my life. So what have I got, permanently etched on my chest? An eagle and a couple of hearts perhaps? Or maybe three bees to commemorate the jokey name that I gave my ‘Bee-cell Lymphoma’ in the early days of my diagnosis? Sadly it was nothing so good as any of those - it is just three little dots so that they can make sure I am properly lined up when they zap me with high-energy x-rays in two weeks time. 

P.S. And to answer the question which I’m sure some of you are asking - it only hurt a tiny bit, and it felt just like it does when you have a blood test and they say ‘Sharp scratch’ before pricking you with the needle.