Understanding what we were contending with took some time. The short story is that our surgeon pegged it right from the start and this was seconded by the surgeon in NYC from whom we sought a second opinion. The longer story is that I underwent an MRI, a CT scan and a bone scan in one day, and metastatic disease could not be completely ruled out because of some spots that showed up on a rib, my kidney and adrenal gland. This lead to a PET/CT scan.
MRI/BONE/CT scan day:
MRI At the first hospital I had an IV port put in my right arm. The MRI machine has a special table for breast shots. Basically there are two cups at the head of the bed. One simply just hovers over and aims for the cups. “Put all your weight on your sternum.” Wow, what a concept. Arms were over my head with the contrast IV easily accessible. It was actually not too uncomfortable. I was warned that it would be loud. As each different sound came I had different visions. I focused on the whoosh at first and imagined great waves washing away the cancerous cells and taking them way out to the cleansing sea. The clanging reminded me of a rain dance where all my supporters were stomping their feet, pounding their fists on the ground. The last sound that I cannot really describe had me thinking of pac-man eating up disease, an image shared with me by a sister in remission. The contrast was put in about half way through the procedure. I was told that the speed at which the contrast shows up in each area is indicative of how much cancer there is…or something like that.
Bone Scan injection After B had lunch (I had water) we went to the Nuclear medicine area at the other hospital and another IV port was inserted. The tech was extremely pleasant. He used my other arm, noticing that I’d “already been abused” today. He injected one syringe of clear liquid, and of course like most others I asked if I was going to glow in the dark. I was to come back 3 hours later for the scan and was told to drink a lot. The CT scan was going to require drinking of a special concoction, and he said that would suffice for the required liquids for the bone scan.
CT Scan We went downstairs and I was promptly given a choice between the flavors of lemon aid, strawberry kiwi or fruit punch for the CT scan. The lemon aid was tart and sweet and B chided me to chug the thing rather than torture myself. An attendant came out 45 minutes later with another tall drink and said I had 45 more minutes to let this all get into my system. I chugged this one too. It gave me the willies. I was so done with drinking by the end of the day!! When I was called in for the CT scan, B had to stay in the waiting room. The scan took like 5 minutes. It was interesting to see the machine, and to hear this English male voice tell me to hold my breath and release as the scanner moved me through. They scanned my whole trunk from shoulders to pelvis.
We had about 1 hour to wait before the bone scan was scheduled, so we took a nice walk around the grounds. A wonderful golden retriever (I think his name was Frasier) was outside and I got to mush him a bit and talk to his human grand-father. The day enabled B and I to have conversations that we never seem to get to in our everyday life, and this was a good break for us.
Bone Scan We were accepted 5 minutes early for the bone scan. It was so well choreographed. The tech was waiting at the elevator for us and took us into the scanning room where there was a table with a scanning device hanging over it. I lay down and it basically took me under the scanner very slowly. There were computer monitors all over for us to be able to see the image. Tech told us that it would look like sparkling stars, with dense areas like my bladder and maybe my toes. When I started I was completely under the scanner. It moved down to within a couple inches of my face and the machine slowly moved me out as my entire skeleton was scanned. I didn’t know what to look for, so I just enjoyed seeing my skeleton. B was able to stay with me for this one which I appreciated. He was marveling at the constellation that was me on the screen. She also took images of the side of my head. We got to leave 10 minutes later after the radiologist determined that she got good shots. I must admit that I looked at her to try to get a glimpse of what she may have seen in the images. She is not a diagnostician, I know that, but I can’t help but wonder what she was thinking.
I guess I’d describe the day as surreal. B and I both seemed calm and present all day. I recall saying that I felt and looked healthy. I cannot imagine cancer spread throughout my body. I scanned my body several times for the areas which may be affected by abnormal cells. As hard as I tried, I kept seeing healthy cells in my organs; in my bones…my visualizations were as calming as my breathing. I am very aware of how focused in the moment I am. As we drove home, B asked what news I hoped to hear on Monday. My first answer was that it has not spread. My second answer was that it was already gone. He said “that would be magic” and I said “I believe in miracles”.
OK so this girl wasn’t seeing any technicolored hearts or anything last night. No matter what I invisioned the port-o-love sending into my system, the end of Day 1 had me relating to the mangy fox. Actually she probably felt better than I did. I went home and sat on the deck, writing yesterday’s blog, feeling pretty good. About 2 hours later, I noticed sweat beading up on my nose, could feel the flush leaving my face. Right after I asked E if he wanted some dinner, I was in bed and close to the loo in no time. It felt like a red stopper was pushing down into my gut and oozing its way down. Ginger tea, hot water bottle, massage, deep breathing, closing my eyes. MEDICATION. It took a good 3 or 4 hours before the waves went away. I drifted off into a very sound sleep. I can’t wait for accupuncture today.
Later: Someone to clean my house, a nice long walk with D in the beautiful September air, a 2 hour nap with my katz, accupuncture, a shot of neulasta to help my bone marrow kick into high production of white cells , and not one, but TWO delicious meals dropped off at our door. If nausea was at a 10 last night, I’m at about a .5 this evening. Accupuncture seems to be my thing. The photo of this drawing does not really capture the soothing blue I visualized. My family and I are so awed by your generosity, love, and attention. I think tonight will be a good night.
I got a vision of chemo while in NY last weekend. One of the drugs is a rusty red, and I saw it going in the port-o-love and directly to my left breast. It traveled like a fireball and turned into a pale yellow, cooled by the ocean of blue that is my spirit.
At this point my visualizer is really active. I drew the whole time I was hooked up except for when I was eating. Yea, I was hungry and ate all of the fresh fruit and cottage cheese and green salad they gave me. When you’re a soup snob, hospital minestrone just doesn’t get a rise but being the trooper he is, B helped me finish the soup. This first pic was just a close up of one I’d done earlier of the lasso gathering the disorganized cells. I just had to get it on paper again.
dripped from the bag, Cytoxin was to go in after the A, which was put in through a separate attachment. The port is cool, they can draw blood from it or put meds in. When it was time for the A to go in, the nurse used a separate insertion tube because does not come in a bag like the other stuff. It was in two large syringes, very red liquid. My automatic response was something like ‘there it is’ the stuff some refer to as battery acid. (I’m not going there.) So B and I were driving home wondering who was the one who said “hey let’s put this stuff in a human and see what happens…” (Kinda like who decided to eat the first lobster?) I am amazed that our veins can withstand something that can apparently burn your skin if it leaks out of the port.
It’s good to be home.
As we called and emailed loved ones, friends and colleagues, a web of light began like a tapestry around us. The love mill spreads fast. I came to appreciate email because although it seems at first impersonal, it tended to give the reader some time to absorb such unexpected information. Like this blog, we are able to get information out to those we knew would want it… We have been getting surprises dropped off on our doorstep and in our mailbox, positive and G.O. energy coming in our direction, phone calls, cards, well wishes, food…love is blowing in the late summer breeze.
I immediately came home and drew LIFTED. I basically blew off the plans for the day and it became a spontaneous combustion of human connections. E helped me make a picture of an angel and we have started putting names and numbers of all the people who have offered themselves to us.