Scan Today

I had my CT scan this morning.

It was mostly uneventful.

In the past, I went to the hospital for my scans. But since the hospital merged with another, I can go to one of the satellite offices that does scans, mammograms, and blood draws. Much closer, much easier parking, and generally one less thing to stress about.

After I checked in, the tech called my name, and walked me to the elevator we needed to take to get to the basement-level room where they would do the scan. On the way dawn, she looked at my file and said, "You've had a scan before, then?"

I told her I had, and mentioned how much I disliked the barium milkshake that I got at the hospital. She said they didn't do that thing at this place. I said, "YAAYYY!" probably too loudly. She turned to me and said, "But the stuff I'm giving you is no picnic..."

"YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYYY," I said, much more quietly.

It turned out that stuff wasn't half bad. It's called Breeza, and unlike that nasty, thick milkshake-y thing, this was a clear liquid, the consistency of water, but in a delightful fruity flavor, as indicated by the pictures of various cut fruits on the bottle. I still had to drink two 16 ounce bottles, but I was done in five minutes, as opposed to the half hour it took with the milkshake.

I watched Good Morning America for the remaining 55 minutes of my wait (Hello, cancer survivor Robin Roberts! And Peanut, the World's Ugliest Dog!)

And then the scan itself. Easy. The usual tasting the saline in the back of my throat, and the weird hot feeling when she injects the contrast, but overall, no problems.

Despite the Breeza, I still ended up with stomach cramps, and I was exhausted when I got home. I took a little nap about 12:30, and woke up with barely enough time to get to physical therapy.

I still felt yucky, but I went anyway.

And if you read my entry yesterday, you're wondering -- did he play the cancer card?

Yes. Yes I did.

The aide called me in and, as she was setting up the machine that warms up my shoulder, asked me how I was feeling. I told her "Horrible -- I had a CT scan this morning."

"Oh, really? What for?"

"I'm a cancer patient."

"WHAT?!!" she said, panicking.

I explained that I had Follicular Lymphoma, and that it is a slow-growing blood cancer, and that I've been living with it for over six years. She calmed down some. I felt bad about doing it. I don't like to spring the cancer thing on people. I know the word freaks people out.

But she passed that news on to the Physical Therapist, and he did go easy on me. It was still a workout, and I left there sore, but he kept a couple of the more aggressive exercises out of the routine, which I appreciated.

So now it's a matter of waiting for the results.

Despite my scanxiety, I'm feeling OK about it all. As I said, there hasn't been anything happening that would make me think that there's a big problem waiting to be revealed.

And if there is, we'll deal with it.  It's what we do.