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I went to see Scott, my oncologist, last Thursday. He drew blood and informed me that I needed to get some scans. Because he is a friend, we were having a great time chatting, so I am assuming he means these scans just to be the eternal check-ups that I will have for the rest of my life.
I started this morning at 7:30 with a PET CT scan. After missing one vein, the tech put an IV in my hand, injected some radiated glucose as I sat in a recliner, dimmed the lights and told me to relax for 45 minutes. Oh, Dear God! But I did it and she returned. I was put on a table and run through a doughnut for about thirty minutes. I always keep my eyes shut, because I don't want to find out I'm claustrophobic. Dick drove me to the Center at St. Francis.
My next scan, a bilateral breast MRI, was scheduled for 11:45 on the other side of town at Roper. Dick and I had breakfast at the Variety Store and he drove me home. I saw no reason for him to take me to the second appointment, which I had been told would only be about 30 minutes.
I registered, a tech came and got me, ANOTHER IV was placed in my arm, this time - at least it was on the first try, and I was told to take off my jewelry, which consisted of a necklace, a pair of earrings, three 'strong' bracelets (pink for breast cancer, white for nursing, and orange for the SPCA, a silver bracelet and a pink Promise bracelet). Then I was given the dreaded hospital gown, placed on a table, face down, with my boobies hanging through two openings, given ear plugs, and the test began. I had been told the scan itself would be about twenty minutes.
I don't know what happened but I was on that table, in that tube for more than 90 minutes. My ribs hurt, my face hurt, and I ran out of things to occupy my brain. The noise was ghastly. I tried to give rhythm and word to it - once it sounded like the banging noise said "SOOKEY," and another time "ISTAMBUL." Mostly it was just hellishly loud and I could feel the impact moving the air just above my head...my hair would move. After what I thought was an interminable amount of time, a voice told me we were 1/3 the way through. I almost started to cry, but was cautioned not to move. I replayed in my head every successful audition I ever had, I respoke The Mammologues, I tried counting seconds, but would get stuck on 10, 11, 12. I concentrated on my breathing and then realized that made me afraid that I was going to suffocate. Then I felt like my heart beat was becoming irregular. All the while, a nice voice was encouraging me, saying, "You're doing great. It's important you don't move." I truly thought I was going to vomit or cough and my face hurt from being stuck in the hole intended for it.
When I finally finished, it was after 2 p.m. The techs told me something about not being able to get clear pictures, and helped me off the table. I was dizzy and kept apologizing for messing up the test, but I knew I hadn't. I got my clothes on, got my IV out and almost ran out of the hospital, realizing later I had left all of my jewelry and my sunglasses in the little room where I dressed.
When Dick got home, I asked him to make me a drink...something I haven't done in a couple of years and asked for his undivided attention while I told him my tale of woe. I am getting ready to go stand in the shower...allowing healing water to wash over me. This was truly one of the most difficult days for me in recent history. I just hope and pray the scans are good. |
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