So I went in for my first PET scan today. For those keeping track at home this test will show where the cancer is and how far it has progressed. So needless to say I was already nervous since this is a big test. Have I mentioned I also don't care for small spaces??
So they injected me with radioactive sugar (sounds bad, but it just lights up where the cancer is) and I waited for an hour while drinking this lovely day-glow stuff.
It wasn't too bad. It tasted like a bitter lemonade crystal light. So there I was waiting for the radioactive sugars to light up my cancer while the lovely neon drink did something or other. I was feeling pretty good.
Then I saw the machine.
So I am not a fan of small spaces, but what makes it worse for me is I can't move while I am in this small space. I can't fidget, I can't tap my foot, I can't whistle, NOTHING.
So there I was looking down the barrel of this huge machine. Ok, I can do this. I can do this. I can do this!
Nope. Didn't do it.
I lasted about 3/4 of the way and then I couldn't take it anymore. I was sweating, I was shaking, I felt like I was going to throw up from the lovely meds they gave me. I yelled out a desperate "Hello? Anyone there?" and the radiologist came out to save me.
I took a break, walked around, got a drink of water and hopped back in and finished it.
THANK GOD! Next time I have to do this I am bringing my iPod and some headphones and getting lost in some This American Life. Did I mention I am going to have to do this ALOT?! They scan me halfway through chemo, at the end of chemo and then every 3 months after that to make sure the cancer hasn't come back. ::sigh::
So we have learned I have become a huge wuss in my old age, and next time I will hopefully remember my iPod and my dignity and make it through!
*this post was edited by Dan.
editor's note: Julia isn't a wuss. She isn't old. Ira Glass rules!