~ Hot Spots posted 1/10/2008 11:14:22 PM | 14 kudos what's this?     report abuse

sciurusniger

"Courage is... the knowledge of how to fear what ought to be feared and how not to fear what ought not to be feared."
(David Ben-Gurion)


"Hmmmm...." the doctor said, as he peered more closely at the computer screen. "There's a hot spot right here."

Up so early it felt like the middle of the night, the squirrels blinking sleepily as their daily rations were quickly handed out far sooner than they've come to expect, we'd headed out into the blustering, wind-advisory dawn for the long ride to the hospital. One of the most professional places I've ever had the pleasure of visiting, at the start of the day everything was moving along like clockwork and we were promptly taken back to the inner sanctum that houses the nuclear medicine department proper. It was reassuring that the same technician who'd done the preps for my very first CT/PET scan would be doing them again for this one. Many jokes were made as the "new and improved" barium glucose solution was prepared; I have to admit he was right in that it didn't taste quite as horrid as it did last time. Smelling vaguely and softly like strawberry ice cream, it was really rather flavorless and the thinner texture was a most welcome relief to my gag reflex.

Since this would be a two-part scan, the next step was to insert the IV that would be used to later inject the radioactive material. I closed my eyes. There came that familiar, painful sting as the needle was inserted into the vein inside my elbow. I made a grimace, we all laughed; having donated gallons of blood, been a pheresis donor, as well as once having to undergo daily IV antibiotic treatment as well as regular blood tests, I really knew it hurt only because of the alcohol cleaner.

Then we settled down to wait. No doubt that the forced fast had all my glucose-starved cells readily sucking up that barium but because muscle also likes glucose, movement is kept as limited as possible to avoid them absorbing too much and thereby showing a false-positive in the reading. So when forced to sit still, I did what I always do. I dozed off. After reading for a little while, so did PMF.

Suddenly there was a loud buzz and a voice came echoing into the small room. "Are you all right? Do you need something?"

It certainly startled us. As we looked at each other in bewilderment, the tech came in. Seems that when PMF dozed off, he leaned back his head and accidently hit the panic button. We all laughed. Then we all laughed again when it promptly happened a second time.

All became quiet for a good long while, then again, and just as suddenly, that voice came echoing into the room. "The head-banger's at it again."

I suppose we looked rather like small children with hands stuck in the cookie jar, but I swear, it wasn't our fault. We weren't really believed so after a wee bit of scolding, we decided it was probably wisest to readjust the seating. And then it was finally time. One last swig of enervating barium-laced glucose and it was off to see the Wizard.

Well, ok, it wasn't really THE wizard, but it is surely one whiz of a machine. Brand-new and creates the images twice as fast as the old one. Good thing, because it is a decidedly unnerving sensation to be in the middle of it. Every time I can't help but morbidly think to my Self, "This must be what it is like to be entombed." Especially when padded and strapped to eliminate the possibility of movement.

But I digress.

Before the scan is started, the very last thing to be done is inject some radioactive material through the IV. This was the part I'd quite forgotten. It's pretty scary if you're anywhere near menopause and have ever experienced that lovely sensation called stress incontinence. Unlike a menopausal hot flash, this heat hits the extremities within seconds and seems to take particular aim and great glee in soundly warming a woman's genital region. I understand from talking about the effect with men that it's a bit different, but in my experience it feels exactly like all bladder control has suddenly gone belly up.

Of course there's nothing to do except giggle hysterically. And perhaps that's part of the intention - to send you off into claustrophobic purgatory with a smile on your face?

Works for me.

In the same way that chronic sleep deprivation allows one to fall asleep when forced to sit still, being forced to lay down in utter silence has the same effect. I closed my eyes and as the slow ride began I let my Self drift away. Having just had a small nap, I didn't think I'd be able to sleep even lightly, but apparently I did, for shortly after awareness of my thoughts returned, the bed began its final slide out of the machine and back to its original resting place.

A short while later we met with my oncologist. An expert concerning the particular, rare form of cancer I had, chair of this department, he is, simply, a delightful man. Definitely the one person you'd want on your team. He did the usual physical exam, expressed the usual approval of how well I continue to heal after the surgery, then pulled up the scans. It was fascinating. The two scans work together to show and pinpoint suspicious cellular activity so we roamed around my insides, looking at what was happening.

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