It’s almost 4 o’clock and I’m still in my pajamas. I still need to go outside and get my walking in. My excuse is, I have been catching up on my emails and reading articles I earmarked earlier this week because I didn’t want to spend all day on my laptop.
Tomorrow I go for my 6 month Pet CT Scan. For those of you who don’t know what that is, it’s when I lay inside this machine and it scans my insides for 30 minutes, looking for anything that’s not supposed to be there. I can’t eat after 8 o’clock to make sure my blood sugar is normal. Sugar shows up on the scan and give a false positive which leads to more invasive and expensive tests. I take a “happy” pill an hour before the test. I am claustraphobic, and I don’t mean a little. The pill definitely helps and we know when it has taken effect because I tell anyone who will listen how happy I am and I wave non stop to strangers. I have been known to break out into a dance routine in the waiting room.
I think the weirdest thing about the whole procedure is seeing the syringe of radioactive material, that will be injected in me, arrive in a lead container. First off, I drink a small bottle of liquid and then I get the shot. Next I have to lay quietly in a dark room for an hour to allow the mixture go through my intestines, then I pee in a bathroom made out of stainless steel. Ok, the sink and toilet are stainless steel and whatever goes in them probably ends up in some bio hazard waste tank.
I have had several of these tests, so it isn’t scary anymore. The first one was the worst. Did the chemo and radiation work? Would I have to endure more? Luckily the answers were “no”.
My cancer treatment story was definitely not fun, but I am one of the lucky ones. My treatment was short compared to the many patients I visit with weekly. They keep coming back. They don’t complain. They are my heroes and teach me how to live.