Went in for scans today. CT scan and bone scan, plus labs.
I keep hearing about "scanxiety" leading up to the scans and wonder why I manage to avoid feeling any troublesome fears leading up to the events. I supposed it is because I feel the scans themselves don't cause anything I should be worried about although I fully empathize with everyone who worries over the results.
Fear can be so powerful, especially in the cancer world. Everyone says we should take life one day at a time and yet, it is easier said than done when one does not know from one day to the other what may happen. We can be living what we think is a happy life to wake up one day with a growth that wasn't there when one went to bed.
Some surprises just plain suck.
Now that the scans are done and the blood is being checked by some lab teck, I imagine my Glenda is hiding her fear of the results. Being the trooper she has shown herself to be these last two years, she is doing an admirable job of hiding her anxiety, if she is feeling any.
Before leaving the house this morning, I planned to take along my MP3 player and listen to Beatles songs during the scans. I forgot them and so, I was forced to do the next best thing.
I took a catnap.
Of course, it was impossible to do so during the CT scan because the robotic man-voice kept talking to me. "Breath in...hold your breath...breath" kept me awake what with me being the cooperative type and all. The bone scan was a different story.
The room was rather cool when I walked in and lay down on the rack, for lack of a better word. I had some trouble laying down due to some flank pain, so Joy, the technician, helped me down.
"Are you okay or would you like a warm blanket?" I so love those heated blanktes hospitals use now, so I asked for one.
Once I was nicely ensconced under the blanket, I closed my eyes and prepared to get a little sleep. A light hum indicated the machine was gearing up and Joy let me know she was lowering the camera for a better view of these old bones of mine.
When the humming stopped, I opened my eyes and went cross-eyed when I saw a flat white surface with a blue cross in the center. The thing was about a inch from the tip of my nose. Since I coulnd't see anything, I closed me eyes.
As soon as you can say bada-bing, Joy was beside the rack telling me to turn my head to the left. "We have some spots," she said.
"Spots?" I asked. "That's right," she replied.
Not thinking anything of her comment, I turned my head and closed my eyes, and a fast bada-bing later, it was all over and the camera was moving upward.
After the blood was drawn and we walked to the truck, I felt Glenda's warm hand in mine. joy's comment regarding the spots came to mind and I wondered what it could mean.
A while ago, I noticed what feels like swelling under my jaw on each side of my throat. Doesn't hurt or cause any discomfort but is noticable to warrent mentioning it to the doctor when we review the results. I mentioned it to Glenda this morning because when I first noticed the swelling, I recalled how my late sister Susy found a lump up under there and later died of cancer.
Doesn't mean I will but one can not be too careful when fighting the Beast.
On the way to the truck, I decided I would not mention Joy's comment to Glenda just yet because she will worry much like she did when that hot spot was found on my rib after wiping out on the bike. When we got the email on that, she cried in my arms, thinking the worst.
So, I will discuss it with Dr. Twardowski and see what we see.
As for the results, I will just wait and see what happens.