Fighting this beast like a warrior

Fighting this beast like a warrior

Friday, November 26, 2010

Scan Tomorrow

Yikes! I am nervous. I am trying not to be, because I know exactly what happens when you get a CT scan. I will describe it for those of you who have not had the pleasure. First you can't eat or drink anything four hours before the procedure - since my scan is at 8:45 that pretty much means nothing after I fall asleep tonight. You get there, they put you in a Johnny gown and then the worst part - you have to drink about four or five cups of this nasty nasty liquid that is flavored in a way that is supposed to cover the taste (so far I have had coconut twice and eggnog once - how about a nice chocolate? Eggnog? Really.) of the radio isotopes or whatever they are putting in me to make my insides light up. Then I have to wait an hour for the liquid to travel throughout my digestive system. Then just before the scan. two more indignities - another cup of nasty goop and a shot of something through an IV that literally makes you feel like you've wet your pants right there. It is the most uncanny feeling. Then they strap your arms over your head, and put you in a giant donut shaped machine that tells you when to breathe and not breathe and makes a lot of banging noise. The room is freezing and dark and loud, and for some reason the light is always blue. I wish I could remember how long the scan takes, I remember the PET scan was 26 minutes because I asked while I was stuck in a claustrophobic beige tube. I only opened my eyes once and then started praying like mad. It was really scary.

This is nothing, absolutely nothing, compared to a liver biopsy which is about the worst procedure I've ever experienced in my life. I am not even going to continue writing about it, just know it was horrible and I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy (if I had one).

As procedures go - liver biopsy worst, PET scan second worst, CT scan not that bad. Honestly, it's the week long wait for what the tumor board has to say that is going to be the hardest. I am just trying to give it to God and hope for the best. What is the best? Totally spontaneous remission. Okay, if I can't have that, I will take significant tumor shrinkage. So, put on your best light gathering equipment and send that light my way. Pray, gather and send light, light a candle, whatever, just think tiny disappearing tumors.  Thanks,

I will get the results on Friday, Dec 3 at 1. I will, of course, be posting about it that night - good or bad. You all deserve to know asap since we are all in this together.

5 comments:

  1. We are sending out all our energy forvgreat results from tomorrow. Love, Julie and Liz

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  2. You've got to wonder about how these medical procedures are invented. Thank goodness for all of these clever people, but perhaps if they had to test the equipment themselves they might make a lovely malted chocolate flavored drink and turn the heat up.

    Can you get them to play music for you? When Alex had his MRI a few years ago, they played Harry Potter for him.

    We're all sending our love your way.

    Mary xx

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  3. Prayers to you and Pat today. Don't know why the light is blue there, but I read last night that blue light is considered good for your liver. I like what your friend said about gratitude's boichem effect on thè body--also true in Ayurveda. L-s

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  4. You wont see this till you get home....but I am thinking about you and wish for the absolute best! XOXO
    Nancy

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  5. Hi Ruth- we are still in Ohio, getting ready to leave this afternoon and it is snowing!! You have already had your scan, but we are thinking of you and hopeful for some encouraging news. Love-Sandy

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