Fighting Breast Cancer

Mary was the name of the angelic nurse who hugged me and helped me to calm down.  I allowed her to put an IV in my arm for the CT Scan and she wheeled me in a wheelchair to CT Scanning room.  I had stopped crying, but I couldn’t shake the overwhelming feeling of dread.  I allowed the technicians to help me onto the scanning bed and hook up my IV.  Then I layed there very still while the machine slid the bed into the CT tunnel and took images of my brain.  Soon it was over and Mary was waiting for me with the wheelchair and a warm blanket.

Because of the urgency of the situation, a radiologist immediately reviewed the images of my brain.  For 20 gruelling minutes, I sat with my head lowered in the wheel chair, trying not to cry.  At last, some good news.  My brain was free of cancer! 

It’s amazing how a little bit of good news can make you rebound from the depths of despair to the highs of heaven.  After I processed the relief of having a clear brain scan, I agreed to press on and have the PET Scan.  I was so amiable, that I even agreed to let the nurse have another shot at my foot.  Pun intended.

This time, I was too tired from the seizure to get worked up about the IV in my foot.  She found the vein and popped it right in.  Then, a gal named Melissa wheeled me to the PET Scan Unit.  The scan was located outside in what looked sort of like a giant tour bus for the Rolling Stones, complete with a wheelchair lift.  Melissa pushed me onto the lift and I was raised and pushed inside.  The unit was divided into three rooms.  The main entrance  was the “control center” where the technicians monitored and operated the scan.  The room to the left was where the actual scan was located.  I was led to the room to the right. 

Before the scan could begin, I had to have the radioactive sugar solution administered through my IV.  It was imperitive that I sit very still in the recliner provided for me while the solution ran through.  I don’t know if this was important to the test, but the room they had me in was so cold, I thought I was going to die from hypothermia.  Melissa had wrapped me in 4 warm blankets and I was still freezing.  I tried to doze off but it was even too cold to sleep.

After about 45 minutes, Melissa retrieved me and removed the IV from my foot.  Then she wheeled me back inside the Clinic so that I could pee out the excess radiation in my bladder.  Then, it was back up the lift and into the room on the left where the scan was located. 

This scan was a lot like the others:  I had to lay very still on the bed while the machine moved from top to bottom.  This took approximately 20 minutes.  At long last, I was free to go. 

Mary, the nurse who cared for me after my seizure, asked me to sit and stay for a little while longer to make sure that I was okay to drive.  After about 30 minutes, I convinced her that I felt “worlds better” and was capable of driving myself home.

On my drive home, I listened to the messages on my cell phone.  There were 5 missed messages, all from my husband.  I called him back and told him about the PET Scan, the brain scan and, “….oh yeah.  I had a seizure today.”

By the time I got home, Michael was sufficiently inebriated.

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