PET Scan Number Two
I barely remember my first PET scan. I was so dazed during that first week after the diagnosis, I honestly barely recalled any of the scan procedure until I was back in there this morning.
I checked in and sat in the waiting room next to my mum, just like I did the first time. I smirked a little, though, when I had to fill out the form declaring that I was not pregnant. Yeah. You guys kinda took that option off the table, thanks.
When the guy came to get me and walk me back to the PET scan area, it all started coming back. But this time, I was not given as much information as the first one. Back in November, the girl who set me up in the little injection room explained the whole process to me (not that I retained any of it), told me how much of whatever nuclear juice I was getting shot up with, and then when I was left to wait my hour for the stuff to circulate properly before the scan, I fell straight asleep.
This time there was NO sleeping. I was feeling dazed but definitely NOT relaxed. I sat there in the chair, not allowed to move, not allowed to read a book, nothing. Just sat. Boring... I resorted to a strange habit I have when left alone in medical offices - I count the letters on any signs in the room. I'll start at the beginning of a sign and read the entire thing counting only the As. Then the Bs. And so on. If the sign is long enough, this can take up a fair amount of time and keep my nervous brain occupied enough to not think about how scared or uncomfortable I might be. I know. I'm weird...
Anyhow. When my hour of stillness was up, I got to go in and lay on the table to get scanned. This involves laying perfectly still, on your back, with your arms over your head for just about half an hour. My left arm was all pins and needles the entire time, which I do NOT recall happening last time. So I guess I spent the entire time in the scanner tube thing focusing on that. I suppose I SHOULD have been visualizing the cancer gone or whatever, but somehow doing that did not even occur to me. Hopefully that is because I didn't need to. Hopefully because it IS already just GONE.
When I came back out to rejoin my mum, she told me she felt like today was full of good omens - but the best of which was that today was her dad, my Grandpa Joe's, birthday! If you know me well, you know that Grandpa Joe was pretty much my childhood hero. So it's hard not to believe, somehow, that today being the day of the scan means something good!
Unfortunately, no official results until my oncology appointment on Thursday afternoon. So if you can manage to keep your fingers crossed for another 49 hours, I'd appreciate it!
Lots of love, Phoebe
I checked in and sat in the waiting room next to my mum, just like I did the first time. I smirked a little, though, when I had to fill out the form declaring that I was not pregnant. Yeah. You guys kinda took that option off the table, thanks.
When the guy came to get me and walk me back to the PET scan area, it all started coming back. But this time, I was not given as much information as the first one. Back in November, the girl who set me up in the little injection room explained the whole process to me (not that I retained any of it), told me how much of whatever nuclear juice I was getting shot up with, and then when I was left to wait my hour for the stuff to circulate properly before the scan, I fell straight asleep.
This time there was NO sleeping. I was feeling dazed but definitely NOT relaxed. I sat there in the chair, not allowed to move, not allowed to read a book, nothing. Just sat. Boring... I resorted to a strange habit I have when left alone in medical offices - I count the letters on any signs in the room. I'll start at the beginning of a sign and read the entire thing counting only the As. Then the Bs. And so on. If the sign is long enough, this can take up a fair amount of time and keep my nervous brain occupied enough to not think about how scared or uncomfortable I might be. I know. I'm weird...
Anyhow. When my hour of stillness was up, I got to go in and lay on the table to get scanned. This involves laying perfectly still, on your back, with your arms over your head for just about half an hour. My left arm was all pins and needles the entire time, which I do NOT recall happening last time. So I guess I spent the entire time in the scanner tube thing focusing on that. I suppose I SHOULD have been visualizing the cancer gone or whatever, but somehow doing that did not even occur to me. Hopefully that is because I didn't need to. Hopefully because it IS already just GONE.
When I came back out to rejoin my mum, she told me she felt like today was full of good omens - but the best of which was that today was her dad, my Grandpa Joe's, birthday! If you know me well, you know that Grandpa Joe was pretty much my childhood hero. So it's hard not to believe, somehow, that today being the day of the scan means something good!
Unfortunately, no official results until my oncology appointment on Thursday afternoon. So if you can manage to keep your fingers crossed for another 49 hours, I'd appreciate it!
Lots of love, Phoebe
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