Scans Amuck! And an additional diagnosis

This week has been full of scans, IVs, isotopes, "hold that position for 30 minutes...", "40 minutes...", "20 minutes...", "drink this tasty contrast smoothie", "oh, I found you, drink this second contrast smoothie", "yes, it's not a joke, finish the rest of this smoothie".

On Wednesday, I had a PET scan at St. Vincent's Hospital. I was only able to eat meat on Tuesday and nothing Wednesday before my 10:00 AM appointment. No medicine this morning. No Metformin (diabetes medicine) Tuesday evening. A smart tech doesn't try to put the IV into my right arm and goes straight for my hand. He put some isotopes in me and told me to take a nap with a warm blankie. About 30-40 minutes later, he came for me and we did the scans. The isotopes absorb into my cells, but absorb into cancerous cells faster and my cancer locations show up like Christmas lights in the resulting scan.

On Thursday, I didn't take my medicine again in the morning and didn't eat, which I would be glad for later. On this day, at Newberg Providence Hospital, I had an MRI of my head/brian and then a CT scan of my torso. Please don't ask which torso. :)

The gal insisted on putting an IV in my right arm vein, and in fact tried unsuccessfully to do this. She is the third person over the previous 3 or 4 IVs that has dug my arm apart. They decide to get another hot shot with a needle and this guy came down and was finally able to get a vein. They took MRI shots of my head, and then shot me full of some isotope stuff and shot up my head again. The gal then told me to get dressed and ask the receptionist in the imaging lobby for my contrast smoothie, which I would need for my CT scan.

I walked out to the lobby, and the smoothie gal giggled when she saw me, and before I could even ask her, she had sprung up to get me this scary contrast smoothie that was supposed to taste like berries. I asked her if it was nasty and she smiled and handed me a straw. I ended up gulping the 16 oz cup down and was glad when it was finally gone. I had been sitting doing a jigsaw puzzle in the lobby, waiting to be called for the CT scan and about 30 minutes after the first cup, she tracks me down and hands me my surprise second 16 oz cup of "tasty" smoothie. This time, I also drink it as quickly as possible and am glad that I haven't eaten yet. I was full of "tasty" smoothie and wasn't amused. About 30 minutes later, the CT tech gal came out for me, swinging the remainder of a bottle of "tasty" smoothie and I tell her that she must be joking. They all think they are funny there. I finish it off quickly, get dressed down again and lay still for the next 15 minutes. By far my least discomforting scan. At one point, the CT gal power-pushed another type of isotope-radiative stuff into my IV. As I was leaving, she informed me that I couldn't take my Metformin for another 48 hours. Will anything ever be normal again?

Today is Friday and this morning, mom, Lori and I went to see Dr. Hansen, my radiation oncologist at St. Vincent's. As we were waiting in the examining room, I commented that he was probably going to want to examine my forehead. He would ask me to get into the stirrups on the examining table and then he'd put on his long green arm sleeve. Later, when he was giving me a physical examination, he rolled his chair in front of mine and told me was going to start with my forehead and I started to giggle. He asked me if I was ticklish and I just said that we'd made a forehead joke earlier.

Dr. Hansen had received the scans done this week and the previous day had spoken with the Radialogist about the results. They have located my supposed primary cancer spot. There is a carcinoid about a quarter in diameter (I don't know how long) that is in the mesentary surrounding my intestines. The mesentary is the lining that holds my inner parts to my abdominal wall. No cancer in my brain, lungs, liver, kidneys or other major organ. That's a good thing. It might require a surgical removal, but that will be up to Dr. Patil.

Dr. Hansen wanted me to get an additional MRI of my whole left humorus bone so he would know exactly how much to radiate. He is also ordering an entirely new scan, the Octreotide scan, which is supposed to be more accurate than a PET, MRI or CT scan. These two scans will happen next week. Dr. Hansen will call me next week with the results. On Friday, Sept 26, I go to see Dr. Patil, my original oncologist, who will divulge what my primary cancer site treatment will be (I hope). Radiation will be 10 treatments over 2 weeks, but won't start for about 2 more weeks.

At this point, I have no idea about anything else. I didn't expect to be told any results today, but everyone seemed pleased with them and we celebrated with breakfast at Denny's. Then I went back to work. I'm tired of people digging for veins that delight in hiding, holding still in painful positions for untold minutes, and of fasting and not taking my meds. But at least the doctor didn't green arm me to examine my forehead.