PET Scan #2

Another PET scan today.  Let's review.  Low-carb dinner the night before, no alcohol, nothing to eat after midnight, 20 ounces of water the day before, 20 ounces of water the morning of, no caffeine, no sugar, no coffee, no food in the morning.  Come in at 11am to The Cancer Center anxious and miserable, have a nurse prick your finger, stick a needle in your arm and leave it there for the next two hours.  Drink Barium (what is that?), lie in a room by yourself for 45 minutes, No Moving, No Texting, No Reading.  You can listen to music. 

NYU: Want us to turn on the radio?

Miserable Me: Do you want me to shoot myself?  I mean, what's worse?  This needle in my arm or the freakin radio?

Drink more Barium.  Willy the nurse injects you with something that comes out of a scary silver bottle that looks like a large bullet or a small bomb.  You are now radioactive.  Don't touch or get near your kids for 10 hours.  Cry about that.  Drink the last of the Barium.  Lie on this board.  Here's a blanket.  Put your arms up over your head.  Into the scanner you go.  See you in 20 minutes.  Try not to think about the cancer we might find.

I never really treat myself to anything because that's not how my brain works.  But right now I'm smoking a bowl and finishing off two different flavors of ice cream because it's been that kind of day.  

So the reason for the scan is that we are checking an area of my chest again where lymph nodes showed up inflammed in the last scan.  Chances are good that the inflammation was due to the surgery, but there is a small chance that the inflammation is an indication of cancer cells in those nodes.  If that is the case, then I will definitely need 3 to 5 weeks of daily radiation (not to be confused with being radioactive because they are acutally two separate things which makes no sense but it also makes no sense that they treat cancer with things that could give you cancer so just shake your head and move on) in September.  If the inflammation does not appear again on this latest scan, then radiation remains an open question.

But also I should say that I am 17 days out from my last chemo treatment and I am generally feeling pretty good.  I'm feeling my energy again, most of which I am happily allowing my children to drain from me every day.  Happy, happy, happy to do it.  Also I made it out of the house last night and had dinner (lo-carb, no alcohol) with Michael and some dear friends and it was the nicest bit of normalcy you ever did see.  I did have a little difficulty applying mascara to the seven lashes left on my lids, and then three minutes before I left the house I realized that in a certain light my maxi dress clearly dileneated one plump, round, nipplessless breast and one significantly smaller nippled breast.  I did not care enough to do anything about it, I only cared enough to feel slightly sorry for myself.  Vanity has taken a nice long vacation but Self-Pity still lingers. 

And dinner was lovely.  After greeting my friends at the bar and exchanging our hugs and kisses, I asked them how they were.  They had a lot to tell me - it's been a rough five months for them.  But they stopped themselves and said they didn't dare talk about their troubles to a woman with cancer.    "Oh, please," I begged.  "Please please please don't let me go home and cry myself to sleep thinking I'm the only one with problems.  Please tell me you have problems, too!"  They obliged and I was so grateful.

Four other friends came to my rescue today.  I planned on lunch with my friend L when I had blocked out of my mind that I would be radioactive after the PET scan.  She came over and brought bagel sandwiches piled high that we both devoured, but she also stayed and kept me company throughout the rest of the afternoon and kept me distracted me from the miserable fact that I couldn't hug or be in the same room as my children.  I'm also really grateful to my friend K, for many many reasons, but today for her podcast Tell the Bartender, which I listened to when there was No Moving, No Texting, No Reading for 45 minutes.  On her latest show, our friend M openly and honestly and hysterically shared the story of the first and only time that he tried to have sex with a woman.  I laughed uncontrollably but then got very nervous that I had ruined my scan because I was sure someone had also told me No Laughing.  

And then tonight, when we had one last miserable hour of trying to keep the kids away from me, when Clio was in tears because she couldn't hug her momma, my friend S had the kids over to her place to play with her bunny Pumpkin.  Oh yes, I'm also very grateful for Pumpkin.  

But I have to say this about miserable moments - they make the ordinary moments feel pretty stellar.