Today was my PET/CT scan day. Those of you who have been reading for a while know how much I love PET scan day. You may also know I have crap veins. This combination normally makes for a thrilling day. But today was extra thrilling.
For the PET scan I need to be injected with a radioactive isotope and for the CT scan I need to be injected with a contrast agent. (I am not sure if agent is the right word...I need to be injected, that is the important part.) My first tech looked at my veins and threw in the towel before even attempting to put in the IV line. My second tech first decided to try the inner forearm, no go (and can we all say "ow?"). She then tried my wrist ~ the nice, bony part that feels GREAT (is the sarcasm coming through?), with a needle and then the saline test to determine that one was also a no go. She then decided to access my port. I had no numbing cream, but since I had already been there for an hour, I said to just go for it. Another GREAT feeling, but I thought, "They are in, we are good to go." Um, no. She couldn't get a blood flash, which meant she couldn't use the line.
Awesome.
Dr....um, I don't even want to use his initial because it is rather uncommon and he was a really gem (the sarcasm is coming through, right?)...so, Dr. Um says that I can drink the radioactive stuff, get the PET scan, then go to the hospital, have the cancer center folks access my port and then get the CT scan done at the hospital. Sigh. A royal pain, but I want this thing done so I agree.
My advice: don't drink the radioactive stuff. It is nasty. Oh, and after I drink it Dr. Um tells me I now have to wait 90 minutes instead of 45 minutes before they can scan me because of how the body reacts. Super. Not like I have children that I need to go home to or anything.
Three hours after I arrive at the PET scan place I make it to the scanner. Woo hoo! The scan starts, back and forth, back and forth, then it freezes in one place for what felt like 20 minutes, but was probably closer to 10. The PET scanner failed mid-scan. They pull me out, reset everything and in I go again: back and forth, back and forth, then it freezes.
The scanner failed again. Engineers were called in. I am now rescheduled for Monday.
Ridiculousness.
Showing posts with label things that suck. Show all posts
Showing posts with label things that suck. Show all posts
Thursday, June 21, 2012
Monday, May 28, 2012
Recharging
Today we were getting ready to go out to the pool and Rory asked me why I was so grumpy.
He had a good point, I was very grumpy. I have been very grumpy. I have a bunch of things I want to get done and since I haven't yet done them, they are chomping away at my mind and draining my creative, fun side. I think it has shown in my writing over the last week or so.
So I am going to take a few days and get those things done so they are off my plate. I am going to recharge my creative energies, and refocus on what is important. In other words, I am taking a few days off from my blog (and a few other endeavors) and plan to come back re-energized and with a clear(er) mind.
Try not to miss me too much!
He had a good point, I was very grumpy. I have been very grumpy. I have a bunch of things I want to get done and since I haven't yet done them, they are chomping away at my mind and draining my creative, fun side. I think it has shown in my writing over the last week or so.
So I am going to take a few days and get those things done so they are off my plate. I am going to recharge my creative energies, and refocus on what is important. In other words, I am taking a few days off from my blog (and a few other endeavors) and plan to come back re-energized and with a clear(er) mind.
Try not to miss me too much!
Sunday, April 22, 2012
Gift
I can't tell you how many times I have read about "cancer as a gift." Worst. Gift. Ever. I want my gift receipt (receipts, actually) and I am returning for a full refund.
I "get" the idea that having terminal cancer suddenly makes you see the world filled with rainbows and people who sing their way through each day (kind of like the Buffy musical!), but really ~ I think that is a load of crap.
Cancer sucks. I can't find anything good about spending lots of time at the cancer center (actually, I can, the people...all of them...are great). I don't think this port in my chest had any wrapping paper or a bow on it. I am positive that the bags the chemo drugs come in are not gift bags. And if they are, we really need to talk about marketing. The handful of pills I get to swallow each day are an exciting combination, but again, not a present.
I have read the same phrase used to describe the way people see life after losing a loved one. By losing someone close, suddenly people embrace each day and the people in it. But I wasn't throwing any time by the wayside before we lost Cora ~ I knew that our kids would only be little for a short time and I was savoring that time. Savoring the moments when they want to sit near you, and give you kisses and hugs in public, and would rather play with you than their buddies. I loved it. I still love it.
I think the term "gift" in this sense is bullshit. I think it is used by people who knew all along that they worked too much, or were in crappy relationships, or never attempted to find the good in things. I didn't need this "gift." I didn't suddenly start finding the good in life when I found out I had cancer or when Cora died. I already had it, I still have it.
I "get" the idea that having terminal cancer suddenly makes you see the world filled with rainbows and people who sing their way through each day (kind of like the Buffy musical!), but really ~ I think that is a load of crap.
Cancer sucks. I can't find anything good about spending lots of time at the cancer center (actually, I can, the people...all of them...are great). I don't think this port in my chest had any wrapping paper or a bow on it. I am positive that the bags the chemo drugs come in are not gift bags. And if they are, we really need to talk about marketing. The handful of pills I get to swallow each day are an exciting combination, but again, not a present.
I have read the same phrase used to describe the way people see life after losing a loved one. By losing someone close, suddenly people embrace each day and the people in it. But I wasn't throwing any time by the wayside before we lost Cora ~ I knew that our kids would only be little for a short time and I was savoring that time. Savoring the moments when they want to sit near you, and give you kisses and hugs in public, and would rather play with you than their buddies. I loved it. I still love it.
I think the term "gift" in this sense is bullshit. I think it is used by people who knew all along that they worked too much, or were in crappy relationships, or never attempted to find the good in things. I didn't need this "gift." I didn't suddenly start finding the good in life when I found out I had cancer or when Cora died. I already had it, I still have it.
Monday, February 20, 2012
Lurching
Today, on the way home from pony rides and ice cream with Rory and Kyan, my mother called me with the news the radiologist at St. Peters thought the "tumors" were just clusters of blood vessels. My liver biopsy was cancelled. My cancer isn't stage 4B.
Let me spoil the surprise, none of that is actually the case.
The radiologist looked at an MRI, which showed blobs of unknown origin on my liver, but that were not presenting as cancer blobs present. So he decided - without talking to any of my other doctors (there are at least 4 more who are actively involved and up to date) - that the biopsy was not needed and it was all for nothing.
As soon as I got home I called the radiology department and asked if he had seen my PET CT scan (a scan in which cancerous parts of the body "light up"). The response: You had a PET scan?
My thought: Are you fucking kidding me? (Drink!)
My actual response: Yes, and my liver lit up like a Christmas tree. I NEED that liver biopsy tomorrow because they won't start my chemo without it and I am NOT waiting another week.
Guess what? I am having my liver biopsy done tomorrow.
Moral of the story: Know what is going on with your healthcare and stand up for what you know you need. I imagine a number of patients would have just let this slide. They may have even celebrated the good news. Believe me, I would have loved to celebrate, but I knew that wasn't the case.
Let me spoil the surprise, none of that is actually the case.
The radiologist looked at an MRI, which showed blobs of unknown origin on my liver, but that were not presenting as cancer blobs present. So he decided - without talking to any of my other doctors (there are at least 4 more who are actively involved and up to date) - that the biopsy was not needed and it was all for nothing.
As soon as I got home I called the radiology department and asked if he had seen my PET CT scan (a scan in which cancerous parts of the body "light up"). The response: You had a PET scan?
My thought: Are you fucking kidding me? (Drink!)
My actual response: Yes, and my liver lit up like a Christmas tree. I NEED that liver biopsy tomorrow because they won't start my chemo without it and I am NOT waiting another week.
Guess what? I am having my liver biopsy done tomorrow.
Moral of the story: Know what is going on with your healthcare and stand up for what you know you need. I imagine a number of patients would have just let this slide. They may have even celebrated the good news. Believe me, I would have loved to celebrate, but I knew that wasn't the case.
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