PET scan

Back into things today with a PET scan after a nice weekend of - mostly - forgetting about what's going on. As for the name, PET... no, I'm not taking my imaginary moggy for an X-rayed once over.  Moreover these, scans are, I was told by my haematologist, designed to see on a deeper level which nodes are reacting to this radioactive sugar they pump through your blood. This was the final diagnostic test (though I'm told I'll have PETs again in the future to assess the progress of chemo) When expanded beyond the acronym, these scans also sound refreshingly like the kind of technobabble used on Star Trek -  I can just imagine Picard saying "Data, scan that planet and tell me the Positron Emission Tomology of it." I can imagine many blank expressions and/or heads shaking in disgust at me just now... :)




Anyway, I arrived on time and waited until my name was called. Yet again, I found myself rocking hospital fashion, with loose fitting quasi-queasy green gown (left) accessorised, of course, by the obligatory cannula in my (now very bruised) elbow crook (right)

Through the cannula they pumped the radioactive sugar.  It's amazing how quickly I've adapted to having stuff sticking out of my arm and the "sharp scratch" you feel when the needle goes in felt everyday. Nonetheless, there was an odd sensation when the sugar was pumped through me; I can only describe it as a lukewarm chill going through your veins, a bit like if you touch metal on a cold day and feel, momentarily, the difference between your body temperature and the object.

I then had to sit in a darkened room for 45 minutes and was not allowed to do anything except sit there. If you know me, you might realise that that was a bit of an ordeal for me. If you don't - I'm normally highly active and multitask by default. But yeah, in the grand scheme of things, obviously not much of an imposition.

I was then led into a very cold room to see this large contraption, which is the PET scanner:

At the edges of the room there were lights that changed colour throughout my scan, which lasted about 25 minutes - presumably in correspondence with the progress of the scan, but simultaneously a fun light show to observe as I lay there, arms up, unable to really move for 25 minutes.

Fairly painless overall, just a bit hard if your brain buzzes and is in need of constant occupation. But that's just because I'm a Gen Y digital native I guess!

Back to work tomorrow, during which time they'll be conducting the so-called MDT meeting where there'll be discussing my case and agreeing the diagnosis. And then I hear the news on Wednesday, when I'll update (probably, might write tomorrow). Nerve wracking but, as I explaining to my friend today, a necessary thing in the long run... 

O+U.

T