CAT Scan Fever

This week I had my second cat scan. The "cat" stands for computed axial tomography. Basically, you drink a bunch of nasty stuff and they take pictures of you as you slowly are pushed through a big donut shaped device. My first cat scan had gone off without a hitch so I expected no surprises. I even drove myself to the procedure, confident that I didn't need anyone to ride shotgun this time around.

I was mistaken.

The procedure was a little different this time. The procedure was scheduled for 1pm, so at 11am, I had to drink a whole bottle of vanilla flavored barium contrast media. This helps provide a clear definition to the gastric tract so they can get a good clear image. After two hours, this should have made it all the way through you. When I got to the cat scan place at 12:45pm, they gave me another bottle of the stuff. "Drink half of it and save the rest" was my new instruction. I had to drink it all at once last time. After waiting an hour (they seemed to be very busy) I was finally called back for the procedure. Put on the gown, walk over to the machine and now chug the rest of the contrast media. Believe me, I was getting sick of this stuff, but trouper that I am, I dutifully drank it down. Having the images taken is really no big deal, no claustrophobia or anything, it's just a donut about 2 feet deep. It's not even dark. I kept my eyes open this time. After taking five or six pictures, the technician informed me that I was going to require delayed images this time. "What does that mean?" I inquired. It means we need to wait 60-90 minutes and take the images over. "Why?" I replied. "Because the barium had not made it all the way down to the end (you know what I mean) yet. "Does this happen often?" I asked. "More often than we like. Everyone is different" she replied. Ok, I'm a trouper. I would take a nap in the car, no sense going back to work or home for an hour. I redressed, and headed out to the car and listened to classical music while I dozed. An hour later I trouped back in, waited 20 more minutes and went back to repeat the procedure. Same drill, put on the gown, climb back onto the machine, take some pictures. All Ok. Right?

I was mistaken again.

Apparently, my system was not cooperating. The stuff still hadn't "advanced" to the end yet. With this, the technician laid out my options. Go with what we have, try it again another day, or the third option. I was in no mood to go through this again and I didn't want to go with an imcomplete scan. I wanted the best pictures possible. So I remained a trouper and chose the third option. They would insert the barium from the bottom up. Yes, you are getting the picture. A barium enema. It has been some time since I experienced this procedure. I may have been a small child. I certainly didn't remember the sensations. It worked. Nuff said.

With my procedure completed, I was free to go. I couldn't wait. What had promised to be an hour or so procedure had taken the entire afternoon. I was tired and ironically, once I was free of the facility, the barium decided to complete its journey through my system all at once. I had to stop twice on the 25 minute drive home. Nuff said. Not a stellar day and I was glad it was over.

The next day it was back to chemo. As you might expect, I was not feeling my best after the previous days' adventure. During chemo we got a call from my family doctors' office manger. The doctor wanted me to come in today to discuss my cat scan. Could I come at 4:30pm? Of course I could come! Are you kidding. I just had the procedure yesterday and they already want to see me. Now, I work in healthcare. I know the final report is not done yet. My mind went wild. It had to be bad news. They don't call you to discuss good news, they wait till the next scheduled appointment. And I had 4 hours to think about it. At different times I was convinced they found more lesions, found nothing, found something completely new, aaaah! By the time 4:30 rolled around, I was a nervous wreck. Of course we had to wait once we got there, aaaaah! I tried deep breathing and had just about calmed down when the doctor walked into the room. Of course, he is completely casual about the whole thing. "The radiologist noticed you may have a little diverticulosis and called me about it. I want to put you on antibiotics to ward off any infections."

All of the air left my lungs.

Is that all! Thank god in heaven. I had been having pains in my side intermittantly and here was the proof that it wasn't something awful. It wasn't the bad, bad news I was expecting. If I hadn't been so relieved I might have hugged him. It cost me $75 to get this news, but I would have paid more.

So we went home relieved and grateful that the worst hadn't happened. I should have suggested to the doctor that if a cancer patient needs to see him urgently and unexpectedly they should at least let you know whether it is serious or not. If I had needed to wait until next week to see him I might have lost my mind.

But I'm a trouper. I have to be. Lost mind or not.