So yesterday I had my first PET scan. Turn up a at the hospital, get injected with radioactive sugar, lay immobile for an hour as 'any movement, even turning the pages of a book could send the sugar to the muscles rather than the organs" and then wander through to get into another whirling donut machine.
'Do not move' warns Dr.24 year old. "No moving". He then proceeds to position me until I'm as uncomfortable as possible all the while muttering "must be still, still, still"
Finally I'm ready, he flips on the machine, gives me one more 'do not move' and turns to leave, flicking on the radio as he goes, arrrghhh. The radio is tuned to 'hip sway' FM... it's playing all the Latin music you know and all of music that drags the Latino out of you... and you can't move. At all.
40 minutes later the beat is now frenzied; I'm still, my arms are starting to go into a 'world's strongest man' shake and I'm pretending to to Finnish (anyone else used to love Janne Virtanen?) in a bid to both hold them still and resist the beat.
Machine chugs, splutters and spits me out and I'm free to leave. I try to capture the 'sense memories' so that I can help Dakota later but have visions of Sandra Bullock and give up. We'll shove Dakota in the machine... that oughta do it.
CAT Scan Thursday (hmmm, Barium) - will call and try to schedule chemo today; hoping for this Friday
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