The first hour of a PET scan appointment is just being shot up with radioactive sugar and waiting around in comfort for it to circulate…in a closed-off room because you’re radioactive! The actual PET scan only takes about 10 minutes in the cylinder, being scanned for concentrated areas of radiotracer that might indicate cancer. It’s almost anticlimactic (until whenever you get the bad news). So I’m in that limbo period of blissful ignorance.
Well, maybe not blissful, since I feel like crap from being sick and a sleepless night. I dragged myself there, but the latest volunteer driver was super nice and encouraging, having worked in healthcare, and also encountered cancer herself. She took the time to sit and talk about concerns I have, and how to deal with them and make decisions in small steps.
Well, back to bed with me. Fortunately my next adventure isn’t until Sunday, when I have to attempt to walk to and from CVS to get the latest COVID/Flu double whammy, which will probably knock me back in bed until the next doctor followup. It’s an exciting life I lead.
I still feel fortunate. I have a roof, a bed, water, food, enough money and insurance to cover most of my expenses so far, and family nearby. I don’t have to fear losing those to stray missiles and ballistics every second of my life.