I'm home from work today so that I can get a bone scan. Bone scans are a lengthy process, although much of it is sittin' 'round and waiting.
I'll walk down to Kaiser at 10:00 AM, and they'll inject a radioactive tracer in my arm. That'll likely be the worst part. Ah, for the plump, visible, pre-chemo, veins of my youth!
Then I'll go away for two or three hours. Then I'll return to Kaiser and wait (they are always backed up).
Then I'll have the scan, which will take about an hour. I can't remember if the table moves or the gamma camera moves.
I do remember that I'll tell the technicians that I have cancer RIGHT AWAY. And I'll make a big show of ouching as I climb up to the table (which won't be such a show today). They see many patients a day, for a broad range of reasons. More than once they've been "rough" with me and have hurt me -- but I think it's because I don't look like someone who requires extra special care.
Another one of the Nice Cancer Ladies died. She was 44 years old, and a pip. She kept a positive attitude and ate a vegan diet and took all the supplements and was known for saying things like: I wish they'd hurry up with that cure! I'm holding on until they do! Her name was Karin.
It's amazing how many women believe that a cure is just around the corner. Like, really believe it. Really believe it, and really believe that they're going to be able to be IN on it, when it comes.
What are their doctors telling them? And what happens to critical thinking in the face of deer-in-the-headlights fear?
I believe I only posted one picture from Alaska. I'll try to remedy that soon. Here's my favorite pic of the inside passage:
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