The Rantings & Ravings of a Cancer Patient

Today’s PET scan will show whether the chemotherapy and immunotherapy have done their jobs.

Today was a crazy day. My PetScan was scheduled for 8am and I was told to get there at 7:30. As I am sitting in the reception area, I get a call from the receptionist saying they need to change my appointment time because a medicine delivery was delayed. I could literally see and hear the receptionist talking.  I look over and she’s behind the glass (I’m guessing because of Covid) looking at me as she spoke.  We continued the conversation as if she’d called me at home.  The “old” me would have been fully annoyed, but I am on a fresh path of shrugging crap off, so I left, went home and came back for my 11:20 chemo appointment.  

After chemo, I headed for the radiology department. I could feel the nausea creeping in, though I’d taken my anti-nausea medicine and received IV steroids to ward it off. Due to COVID restrictions I was, once again, alone and missing having my mother there with me. 

The European-accented radiologist, whose name I can’t remember, though he has administered many of my PET scans, CAT scans and MRI’s, was waiting for me. He greeted me with his always-pleasant smile and asked how I was feeling. I told him I was nauseous, but would be okay. He did his usual shaking of his head and told me he was sorry I have to go through this. He genuinely cares about my illness because every time he sees me, he does the same shaking of the head, looks to the sky and asks God to bless me. 

We walked to the PET scan waiting room where he injected me with radioactive glucose. Radioactive… too bad I don’t get super powers from it, or maybe they are still developing. ☺ They actually give you a card when you leave stating that you were injected with radioactive materials, just in case you get pulled over by the police. From what they tell me, the police periodically scan for radioactive materials, especially around bridges and tunnels, just in case you’re planning on blowing something up.  Imagine me trying to explain that I’d just had a PetScan and they injected me with radioactive materials!  

I spent 50 minutes sitting in the darkened room waiting for the glucose to spread through my body. I opt for the television to be on, but fall asleep within the first five minutes. 

Eventually it is time for the scan. I used to have to lie on a table with both arms raised above my head, but since my arms no longer go above my head, I may have them at my sides. He straps me to the table using a HUGE Velcro strap, to restrict my movement and so I don’t go anywhere.  I often imagine “what would I do if “the killer” in the news stories came in the room. How would I escape? What would I do? That is pretty much what I think about for the 25 minutes it takes for the scan. Then it’s all over and I am freeeee!!!! 

My last scan wasn’t good. It showed that I had a 3cm lymph-node/tumor in my left lung (the one that showed no previous evidence of disease). I guess it’s safe to say I’m scared; not knowing if the meds are working is difficult. I’m not going to get my hopes up but I’m not going to dwell on the possible bad news I might receive in the next day or two. Instead, I am making ramen noodle soup with bok choy and eating it in my new noddle bowl. ☺