Complete pathological response

That's what they call it when they believe that the chemotherapy killed all existing cancer cells. That's what I've  been shooting for and that's what they think happened. Woohoo!! Of course, they won't say that they know everything is gone, because you never know if there is a single cancer cell still floating around in your system somewhere, but what they did say was that after thorough testing of all the tissues removed during my surgery, they were unable to detect any remaining malignancy. My doctors all seemed pretty thrilled. Apparently that only happens about 10 percent of the time.

So the next step is radiation. I was still really hoping that they would decide that I didn't need it, but after literally several hours of arguing with both my medical and radiology oncologists, I finally agreed to do radiation. However I did tell them that if my dermatomyositis flared again, I would be done with them. I'd rather deal with Cancer than Dermatomyositis in a heartbeat.

My first radiology appointment was just discussing the plan (and me arguing). Nothing too exciting, but the second appointment was somewhat noteworthy. I went into a room that had a big machine that looked similar to a cat scan machine. Like a giant doughnut with a bed through the hole. I'm using the word "bed" very loosely. It was more like a skinny, hard table with a sheet draped over it.

They asked me to lie down and put a pad of some sort beneath my torso. As I lay there, it started to inflate around me and slowly started to harden. They'd created a little mold of my upper body that I would use each time to make sure that I was in the exact same position each time. Next, they needed to determine the area that needed to be radiated. They started marking me up with sharpie markers, putting little x's everywhere. Then they did what I think were several different simulations, recording the settings of the machine. After they were done with all that they took pictures of me from every angle imaginable. They were going to refer to the pictures each time to make sure my hands and arms were positioned the same way, my body was at the same angles, etc.

Last of all, they made the sharpie marks permanent. Yes, I officially have a tattoo. Several actually. They are little blue dots that outline the radiation area. I have a few family members that have tattoos. I won't mention names lest they incur the wrath of grandma, but I've got to tell you, those girls are tough stuff. I thought I'd become pretty tough through all this, but those tattoo pokes hurt like a bugger! And I only had about five. I don't think I could handle what it would take to get an entire image tattooed on your body. Maybe it was the area they were poking, or maybe I was just being a baby, but the needles looked like little thumbtacks. She'd put a little dot of blue ink on me then she stuck me with the tack. Have you ever stepped on a tack? That's what it felt like. Except you didn't step on it. You rolled over in bed and laid on it. Yup. That's what it felt like.

So, that was last Tuesday. This Tuesday I have a dry run. They go through the whole process and make sure all the settings are accurate, but you aren't actually being radiated. I guess you could call it a dress rehearsal of sorts. I think I start the real thing the next day and every week day after that for 6 to 7 1/2 weeks.  (My radiation oncologist says 7 1/2. I say 6. We're still arguing about that one.) I'm still not entirely comfortable with the idea of radiation. There are just two many unknowns about how it is going to affect the Dermatomyositis, but I guess we'll find out.  As always, I'll keep you posted.