Wednesday I went to LR for my PET scan. That was a new experience for me. A new building, a new scan, a new process, a new procedure, so I took a new book. Little did I know how familiar things might get.
I wasn’t sure what to expect. I was guessing something similar to the scans I had had before. I arrived early, so I started my book out in the car. A lady came and knocked on my window and told me that I couldn’t park there. (The imaging center has reserved spots). I told her that I was supposed to park there and that I was there for a scan. After a few minutes, she realized that there was a possibility that I could not be lying to her. I told her my name and then it hit her. The LR Hematology/Oncology Office has just purchased a new PET scan imaging machine. So, up until the last month or so, their office only saw medicare patients. While things might have changed, I don’t possess the “characteristics” that constitute me as a medicare patient. She quickly realized what she had done and apologized profusely for being so pushy with an actual patient.
When she brought me out a pass to put in my car it was very apparent that she was embarrassed. I didn’t care and I did appreciated them being so good about keeping the convenient parking spots empty. But, I do think it is time to change their signs!
When it was time, I gathered my book, new fall magazines that I had purchased just for today and my jacket (it is always cold in the scan rooms). I signed in, filled out the pertinent paperwork and waited my turn. All the while getting super involved in the story unfolding in my book.
A lady in a white coat came out. I totally recognized her from across the street. Let me tell you how relieving this was for me. I’ve never been one really excited about needles or the whole taking blood thing and honestly this has not made it any better. I’m not afraid of needles or even weirded out by blood( I mean I don’t mind it and I don’t mind looking at it on TV), but after the day that I fainted in the lab, I have always been a little on edge that this time might be the next time that something happens. Surely it cant be as simple as it usually is for me. But, when I saw this lady, I remembered the specific day she set me up for my IV in the CT room. She was great. No pain, really quick and really nice. So, when I saw her I was relieved knowing the person who was taking care of me.
So, they fill out some paperwork and since I’m a girl and they are using radiation, I have to do the “pee-in-the-cup” pregnancy test. I still laugh in their face every time they do it. I could tell them way more information that they need to know, and they would still have to do that, so I just laugh, make a joke and then do what they tell me to.
Maybe its the 1+1=3 thing that they don’t get, but really. Another reminder!
Each patient has their own room. It has low lighting and a big, fluffy, brown, leather recliner. So, they have to put a small gage IV in so they can put the radioactive dye inside you and then you get to work on your dye job.
As always, they ask where you want to be stuck. I really have only one vein that cooperates and is easy to get to. Left arm, inside elbow. So, I offered it as the option. Another lady has come in and I totally recognize her as one of the CT scan techs from the other place as well. So far so good. I like the ladies, we are having a pleasant time, everything is going right.
They trade off duties and go in for the IV. Well, it didn’t really get in my vein good. So, the hunt begins for another. Let me just go ahead and tell you that the one in my hand that would typically be the next option is shot from the day of chemo. So, they start SLAPPING, not the usual tap, but SLAP on the outside of my wrist. Yes, right here on top of the ball bone. I’m squeezing as fast as I can on a stress reliever in the shape of an 18-wheeler and they are slapping on my vein trying to get it pop up. (I’m not really happy about this being the option. Can we say OUCH! Really a vein right on top of the bone. Not my idea of a “good one”) So, the other lady starts on the right hand, inside of the wrist. I swap off hands with the 18-wheeler and we go for that one. Who knew. As long as they didn’t pull my feet out and go for that, I was fine.
She gets the vein pumped up and finds the one she wants. It worked. Because of what the dye does, they really wanted to make sure they were in a good vein. The first time, I could feel the saline seeping out of the vein, which means the radioactive stuff would pool up around that spot in the vein and just produce weird results. I was relieved that both of them were perfectionists and clean freaks. As you can imagine…we were instant friends.
So, she got me stuck and taped down the IV and went to get the goods.
The next scene really was from a movie. She returned with a vile inside a steel metal cylinder. When she said it would be cold and heavy, she wasn’t kidding. That was weird. Kinda makes you wonder what they are putting inside you if that is what they have to bring it down the hall in. Next, comes the even better news. Because the scan looks for everything down to the smallest little atoms in your body, you cannot read while you are in there because you would be straining your neck and upper back muscles to look down at a book.
NOW THEY TELL ME! (The book was just getting good and I had two Fall magazines….come on, you’re killin me!) Instead, they cover you up with a warm blanket (it was nice, it had been in a warmer with fabric softener sheets, so it smelled like fresh laundry, my favorite scent) turn down the lights, kick up your feet in your big recliner and lock you in the room. I really did feel like I was being quarantined, but it was not as I had expected, you know the whole sterile room thing. There is even a cord you have to pull if you need them, or even to get up and go potty. Which, became an issue because you had to drink 40 oz. of water before you went in there.
As you can imagine I did not really do well as this point. When I close my eyes, my brain starts doing its most activity. Probably because it can actually work now that my mouth is not running. Usually my mouth and my brain do not work at the same time. You would know this if you have had a conversation with me lately. You never know what is going to come out!
So, i thought through a lot of things, including this post and all that is to come in the next month. Too bad I couldn’t help Congress come to a conclusion on the economic mess. And hour and half, surely I could have thought through something!
I was about to pull the cord…and I mean no more extra cord left when the door opened. Finally, relief. So, then I gathered my entourage of activities that I brought to keep myself busy and moved into the scan room. They make you potty first, so your bladder is empty and doesn’t appear as anything in the scan. Then, you get up on the board (this one was a little wider than normal). They get your pillow set, and one under your knees. Get you covered up with another blanket, strap you in (I guess so you don’t fall out) and then make you put your hands up over your head. First, they do what amount to basically two CT scans and then, you roll all the way through and they do a scan (“eye to thigh”) of your entire body that takes about 20 minutes. All the while, your instructions are to lay there and be still. Here’s the problem. I would typically be able to relax and not worry anything, but somewhere about your nose, the ball and joint sockets of your shoulders go numb. Notice I said nose and that I still had the rest of the body to go (they start at the eyes). So, I’m supposed to be still, but since they didn’t strap my arms down and they are now numb, I had to consciously think to keep my arms on the bed. Yeah, not so fun. They are kind enough to put “galaxy” light covers over the light in the ceiling so you have something to look at.
Then, its over and you go home. Lots of anticipation and then…done. So, yeah I get to wait until Friday to find out what happened.
Off to find something to eat, I’m famished. I couldn’t eat this morning.
