This week is my second week of working full-time. Since school is out and the children are home I decided to try to work full days in the workplace. Hah!
I don't think it would have been so bad except for the fact that I had two appointments; one Monday and one Tuesday. On Monday I had my chest CT scan with, yes, an IV. I didn't used to be afraid of needles, and shots don't bother me. But IVs. Now, that's another story. And yes, it happened again - poke and dig. And dig. And dig. 20mg of Valium and I was still freaking out!
Other than the IV, the CT scan wasn't all that bad. I lay down on an exam table which was then moved to a spinning donut that had plenty of room. Lifted up my arms. Heard a lot of whirring, and 10 minutes later I was out of there. Then back to work to finish my day. I think it was the stress that wore me out. But that was nothing compared to Tuesday.
Because the MRI was with and without contrast, I had to wait at least 24 hours before the MRI, so I went back Tuesday 25 hours after the CT scan. Took my (dubious) Valium, waited for an hour in the waiting room. Apparently there were a few emergencies that took precedence. I'm not going to stress it. This stuff happens. So, I go in an hour after I thought I'd be in and out. Hunh!
First let me say that in addition to doing an MRI on the right knee, they were also doing one on the right ankle. Since the surgery we've noticed a swelling on the posterior side just above the ankle, at the bottom of the calf. So, they wanted to check that out too. What no one told me was that the knee and ankle were considered as two different body parts. Hence, the MRI's took twice as long.
So, I go in. They position my right leg and wrap coils around my right knee, calf and ankle. Then they put my left leg on a stand. And into the tube I go. The very skinny tube. The tube that is just big enough to fit my body. The tube that is about 4 inches above my nose. Click. Click. Click. Whirr. Whirr. Whirr. And something that sounds like a rock polishing machine. And then they're back. "We have to prop your left leg higher so it doesn't interfere with the pictures of the right leg. Two pillows and a bigger stand later I'm back in the tube.
First they take pictures of the knee. Not so bad. My face is about eight inches from the tube opening. My arms are crossed on my chest. Tic-Toc. Tic-Toc. X number of minutes later the slab pulls me further into the tube to take pictures of my ankle. Now my nose is just below the tube opening. Oh, did I say I was claustrophobic? Well, I am. So, I close my eyes and start deep breathing exercises trying to go to my happy place. It isn't working. The noise, even with headphones, is pretty loud. And I'm terrified of dozing off. Knowing me, I'd twitch and we'd have to start all over again.
Forty-five, count 'em. F-o-r-t-y--f-i-v-e minutes later the tube starts ejecting me. But before I can do anything I hear "Don't move! Your body needs to stay in the same position for the contrast." Lovely. My left butt cheek is asleep, my left foot is beginning to cramp as it's been stuck in an odd angle (pointy toed) for 45 minutes, and my arms are tired. And then I'm told I really shouldn't move my arms because that would affect my body position.
Now comes the contrast. Thank GOD I drank almost two gallons of water in the morning. And double thank GOD I went to the bathroom before going in for the MRI! I hardly felt the poke. And now I'm dreading going back into "the tube."
I think the nurses took pity on me. They explained they'd be taking three pictures each of my knee and ankle. Each picture would take about three minutes, and I would know when they were taking the picture because I'd hear the rock polishing noise. So, six pictures at three minutes each is 18 minutes. Add three minutes between each picture and that's 35 more minutes. Ok. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out.
Into the tube I go. And as soon as I hear the rock polishing I start counting one thousand one, one thousand two, one thousand three, and so on for three minutes. Then breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. Rock polishing starts and I start counting. One more time and the slab moves so my nose comes perilously close to the tubular ceiling. Ack! Closing eyes, breathing. Rock polishing and counting. And repeat. And repeat again. And then, the words I've been praying to hear. "You can move now. Just don't try to get down."
Heck, just the fact that I can move is enough for me! My butt is asleep, I have a charley horse in my left leg, I've broken into a cold sweat, and I must be pretty pale because the nurses are looking at me and saying "Take your time, don't rush sitting up." A couple minutes later and I'm sitting in a recliner putting my shoes back on. The nurses were thrilled. I was a "good" patient. I followed directions and the pictures looked "great." All I know is I need a really stiff drink. Or two. Maybe three if I really think about it. I go back to work, pick up my stuff, and I'm outta there! I am WIPED OUT.
I was in "The Tube" for 90 minutes! O.M.G. I can hardly sit still for 5 minutes let alone lay still for 90 minutes. And the valium? It did not one thing for me. Nothing. Nada. Nichts. Zip. I need something stronger. A lot stronger. Do you think they could just knock me out for the next one? I am serious. I get to go through this every three months for at least a year, if not more. Just recalling yesterday is giving me the heebie-jeebies.
But the good news is the results from both sets of tests are back. And the preliminary findings are very good. The CT scan showed a small calcification in the middle lobe of my right lung; smaller than a centimeter. It could be something from a lung illness I had years ago, or it could be a small growth from the cancer. We're all leaning towards the calcification.I went through several serious bouts of bronchitis and once had a bout with walking pneumonia. And the MRIs didn't show anything in my ankle - Woo Hoo! As for my knee, it too is clean with the exception of some swelling. And this is, in all likelihood, because my knee is still in the healing phase from radiation. In any case, I'll get the final determination on January 12th when I have my next appointment with dear Dr. Berrey.
And then in three months, I get to go through all this again - chest x-ray, chest CT scan, knee MRI. Hopefully no ankle MRI. I don't think I can handle another 90 minutes in "The Tube." Regardless, I'll do what has to be done. I was nervous about the tests. My lungs aren't the greatest and I was really nervous they would find something. And that the MRIs didn't show anything. That was the greatest news. And a very welcome early Christmas present.
------
As I write about my experiences, I hope you, dear reader, are smiling with me. Bad things like cancer can happen to anyone. The little things, and the big ones too, make all the difference in the world. When I write entries like this it's my way of injecting humor into what was a stressful and/or scary situation. For me, it encapsulates the situation and makes it more manageable. And laughter really is a healing medicine.
I will continue to share my experiences with cancer, the tests, and all that is affected when one is diagnosed with cancer. This blog is by no means over. I'm still recovering! And though I have full range of motion, I'm about as slow as the tortoise in "The Tortoise and the Hare." I hope you continue to participate in the journey of learning.
Happy Hanukkah, Merry Christmas, Happy Kwanzaa, Happy Holidays, and to all a prosperous and more positive new year (if I don't add another entry before then)!
No comments:
Post a Comment