PET Scan/CT Scan

I made it through the PET Scan/CT Scan. If you have a claustrophobic bone in your body or if you have the slightest hyperactive tendency, I don’t recommend these tests. I called and spoke to the technicians long before I scheduled the test, and I took notes on what they said. I had a copy of the directions and what to expect when I arrived. First, you have to get there an hour before the scheduled time and have blood drawn. Actually, that’s not first. You really start the evening before, eating nothing-after-dinner and drinking only two glasses of water the morning of the test. I got around the nothing-after-dinner by going out for a great dinner that lasted through several courses, so I didn’t need  anything else to eat last night. I was a little late arriving (very unlike me, but for many of the places I’ve had to go lately, I tend to drag my feet getting ready). Joe wanted to go get coffee for himself, which at first I said, “No” to, but what’s the difference? If it were he getting the test, I guess I would still want my morning coffee. After the blood test, you go to the Lower Level (I think they should call it something else because right there it sounds ominous like inner sanctum or down in the dungeon.) After sitting there for awhile, they called me up to the desk. The girl asked me what flavored Barium drink I wanted: apple, berry, banana, or vanilla. I looked at her like there must be some mistake. I can tell you right now there was nothing in any of my notes or directions about drinking anything with the word Barium in it. I told her that I was having a PET scan, thinking surely they had made a mistake. She said that it wasn’t a mistake, and I asked her to repeat the flavor choices. I took vanilla, and I know the Vanilla Bean Frappuccino at Starbucks is never going to be the same again. Of course, she replied in the affirmative when I asked if I had to drink it all. I took my vanilla Barium (Doesn’t just that word Barium alone bring up bad connotations of intestines and bowels, etc.?) and sat back down next to Joe and pouted. I pulled my directions for the test out of my purse and asked him to go ask the girl about the Barium drink that was not listed in the directions. Joe loves to ask questions, so he did. There was no other answer. I had to drink it all. Pretty soon they called me back. I brought the Ipod, not set on the sad section of Jay’s All Time Favorites, and I was ready to sit quietly in the recliner after they put in an IV and some shot of something (harmless). By the way, I had already signed the waiver stating that minor allergic reactions occur in 1 to 30 patients; severe allergic reactions occur 1 of 2,000 patients; and, as Joe reminded me earlier, the actual risk of death is less than 1 in 150,000. I was supposed to be seated for approximately 45 minutes to one hour listening to the Ipod and waiting for the injection to circulate through the tissues of my body. Sooner than that, one of the technicians appeared with a glass of water, of which I needed to drink the whole thing. Following a trip to the restroom, I was ushered into the inner sanctum in the Lower Level for the test. I was told that I could listen to the Ipod for part of the test; and if I wanted to, I needed to turn it on then and leave it playing and ready to go when we got to that part. About the technicians…really everywhere I’ve gone for tests, labs, surgeries, etc., I have found the technicians and nurses so very nice and compassionate (There was one exception in the lab before the lumpectomy, but that’s a story for another time.) The ladies explained the procedure, got me settled on the 12” wide cot/bed/whatever and had me place both arms above my head. They started the first part for which I could not use the Ipod. When that was finished one came and told me I could use one hand to insert the ear pieces for the Ipod, Then I had to put that hand back above my head joining the other hand where she placed the Ipod, which could not be manipulated. Honestly, it took everything I had to make it through the rest. They said there would be a total of around 20 minutes. They lied. I think it was double that. I kept my eyes closed almost the entire time so I could pretend I was not in the tunnel part of the machine. I heard American Pie and several other songs. When we got to the The Road-Out by Jackson Browne, I just knew if I could make it through that roughly six minute song, I had to be done. No, not yet. It had to be way past 20 minutes. They lied. I said pretty much the entire Rosary, and I knew when I finished that and The Road-Out, I would be rescued. I didn’t think I could take another minute. I wanted to ask how much longer, but I was afraid. If they said more than two minutes, I couldn’t make it. I’m so grateful to Donna M. who told me to get over the machinery and just think of it as my friend, to know that it’s tracking down any cancer cells I have in my body. Thanks, Donna, I kept that in my thoughts as much as possible and used it to chase away the anxiety. Mercifully, one of the tech ladies came in. She said they had to make sure the pictures took. I asked her if she could help me sit up in the meantime. I could not possibly have gotten up by myself. She helped me, said the pictures were good, and that I could go. God Bless. When I ran for my life from the Lower Level, I went to meet with the lady who runs the boutique at the Cancer Institute. She was very helpful, very honest about side effects of chemo, which will be my next challenge. You know, I thought I was going to save money on hair products and stuff (since I’m not going to have any hair), but I can see that I’m going to need many other products for scalp, skin, make-up, special deodorant, toothpaste, etc. It’s going to be a whole new world!