Video Killed the Radio.....Active Isotopes & PET Scans

Today was my lucky day! I was chauffeured, got to sit in a lazy boy in the dark, and then ate a DQ french silk pie blizzard.  Yeah baby!! Sometimes having cancer is actually more like a vacation.  Right? Oh wait, let me tell you what I had to do in order to get these lovely events to occur.

Yesterday, while I was out visiting some lovely ladies I know, I received a voice mail.  In the message, I was informed that my oncologist's office had booked me a PET scan appointment for 9 am the following morning at a place in Casa Grande.  Casa Grande is 40 mins (approx.) from where I live.  So much for asking how my day was and what would work for me.  I guess that's what you get for not answering your phone.

I quickly changed my termite debugging (yep, we've had new tunnels show up) to next week, and then called Nana M to see if she could watch G.  I then called my neighbor M to see if she would be willing to go with me.  I have been informed time and time again to not go alone.  So this time I took the advice to heart and made sure I had back-up.  She was more than willing to join in the fun, and thus the adventure was set.

To prep for this scan I was informed that I couldn't eat or drink after midnight.  I was also told to avoid high protein.  To be honest, this is easy for me.  I don't eat a lot these days anyway and what I do eat...well....it's not high in protein.

When we arrived in Casa Grande, I got checked in and then Jerry from Wisconsin came to get me all set up.  I asked him if he liked his job, while he laid out all the tools and vials he needed.  He replied that it has taught him compassion, because for the most part he works with a lot of cancer patients.  I thought about that for a minute and asked if this was hard for him.  He said, "No. Cancer patients are the most hopeful people you will ever meet.  It's inspiring."  I loved it!  After this he got quiet and just worked on getting me set up for the scans.

The first part was another blood draw to check my glucose level, which was 93.  Then I was lucky to have lots of saline pushed into my veins, followed by the radioactive isotopes, followed by glucose, followed by more saline.

This was all done with a:

No, the needle wasn't dirty, but this was the ugliest one I could find.  I hate needles.  They don't bother me in the way that I panic, but I do hate being jabbed at everywhere I go.  So far, the only place not to stick a needle in a body part is.....um....no one.  Man!

After I was radioactive, I was led to a lovely, cushioned dark blue La-Z-boy and tucked in nicely with a blanket.  Then the lights were dimmed and I got to sit there, not moving, for 45 minutes.  Luckily the room had a sweet poster that I could stare at in the dim light:

So after about 2 minutes, I closed my eyes and started to think about all the things I would like to be doing.  Cupcakes were at the top of my list.  I love to eat cupcakes.  It's not my first priority, but it's a priority in my life.  I thought about cupcakes, then cancer, then needles, followed by the tingly feeling in my arm, then I started to drift off to sleep.  Jerry came and woke me up right then.  Such is my life.

I was told I would have to change and Jerry handed me a delightful ensemble.

Imagine my surprise.  I do love how the gowns now tie closer to your right or left side, so that your bum isn't hanging out.  You cheeky bum lookers! I quickly changed and removed all of my rings and earrings, so as not to have any metal flying through the air.

At this point he told me I would have a CT scan, that they would superimpose on the PET scan image so create a complete picture.  My thought was- groovy.  Forward we marched to the CT scan machine, which looks like a donut, made of eggshell colored plastic.  I laid down upon the bench, sweet Jerry shoved my head left and right and into the pillow to get the correct alignment and then told me not to move.  The machine clicked and whirred and within 5 minutes I was done in there.  Onto the PET scan machine!

Back in the Radioactive Ramada I was again told to lie down on the sliding bench, and then kind Jerry again mashed my noggin' into position.  Now, mind you, the room is dimly lit and extremely relaxing.  All the machines even sound super groovy as they do their thing.

He asked me a question, to which I turned my head to answer when he barked at me, "Don't move your head, chest, or abdomen Kami!" I jumped.  Yes, yes I did.  He scared me. Until this point he'd been all mellow and chill, like any guy from Wisconsin is and then BOOYAH! Orders.  He then playdoughed my head back into position and asked me if I was comfortable.  I was not.  However, I wasn't going to tell him that.  My legs were tingling and about to fall asleep, but I was not going to risk another chompy moment with Jerry and so I just moved my eyes and answered, "Yep."

Jerry let me know that I didn't have to keep my arms above my head, like I did in the MRI and CT scan, but that when the machine fed my body slowly into the machine, I would have to move them higher and higher until they were finally above my head; at the end.  He then hit a switch and the bench slid into the machine, jamming into my elbows, since my hands were clasped over my abdomen, while I listened to Jerry's instructions.

"Sorry. I should have warned you that I needed to check to make sure your arms would clear."

Not moving anything but my eyeballs, "S'okay. It only hurt a little bit."

He re-positioned by arms, and then said we were going to begin.  Then he disappeared above my head and into the other room.  The machine hummed to life, and then the clicks and whirring began again.  Every 4 to 5 minutes the machine would go quiet, then clickety-click, before it would slide the bench further into the circular hole.  I moved my arms twice before deciding it would just be easier to reach above my head and let my arms be.  Bad idea.

My shoulders started to cramp after 2 slides into the machine.  At this point I couldn't move them.  Jerry came in to tell me I had 15 minutes left.  Sweet! Only 3 more shifts.  Then my leg started to itch.  Nuts!  I wanted to itch my leg so badly, but didn't want Jerry to come over the speaker and make me start over again.  So it itched.  My lip started to sweat.  The machine slid more and stopped.  It itched.  My eye started twitching.  The machine slid again, then Jerry informed me I was done.  The bench slid backward, I itched that leg for all I was worth and then waited for the feeling to come back into my feet.

One quick change and I was out of there!  M and I stopped for a DQ blizzard; I had french, silk pie (thanks A for the addiction!).  Then it was home again, home again.

After I got home I googled what the transposed image would look like and found this:

Now, clearly this is not me.  I do not have 6 inch wide hips.  Not even when I was 2 were my hips that narrow.  But this is what the image should look like when Dr. B gets a gander at it tomorrow or Monday.

That was how my day went.  It ended with a dip in the pool, and a feeling of satisfaction for how normal I felt when all was said an done.  However, I am hoping that the radioactive isotopes kick in and help enhance my natural born ability to fly.  If you see a UFO near your neighborhood anytime soon, give me a wave will you? I'll be sure to dip my arms just for you! ~Kami