Tattooed.

Yesterday i was standing in the dressing room in Urban Outfitters and began to cry my eyes out. i had gone shopping for a few new things in the hopes of some distraction. but just like every corner of my world right now, cancer just keeps on following me. i took off my shirt to try some things on, and there they were. the fresh tattoos i had received the day before. i had met with my radiologist on tuesday to have a CAT scan so they could "mark" me. these marks are permanent. i felt like i got branded. these will be forever reminders of this battle. and as i laid there shaking, and they kept reminding me to "keep still", i just kept thinking, "why am i here?" i tried focusing on the contrast of my skin to everything else... the white room, the white ceilings, the bright white lights, the white coats, the white machine, the white gown they had me change into when i got there. i was staring at my skin reminding myself that i was still alive. the radiation is so precise that i am given these marks so they know exactly where to aim the beams every time.

it's another hard pill to swallow. another hard step in this process to accept. i will be in a dressing room a year from now, trying on clothes. will these marks still stand out to me? will i be wearing them in pride? will they no longer be marks of suffering, but of surviving? i hope.