Tests, Tests, and More Tests.........

12/14/12--Friday--Day 62--My Radiant Glow

Thursday evening Mike and Suzie, our friends from Albuquerque, drove down for the weekend. As we headed out to find a high protein dinner--as instructed by the PET team nurse, Jed, who called--a wave of drizzly rainy weather blew in.  It hasn't rained since summer so I couldn't help but think it was my mom's special way of reaching me.  She would have wanted to be by my side as I went through all this.

When we left Safford early Friday morning, it was still raining.  The Superior mountains were beautiful in the wet weather.  I was trying not to think about the radioactive crap that would be entering my body soon but it remained in my mind like a bad odor you try to cover up with a flowery room spray.  On the way to the Cancer Center we stopped by my Aunt Mary's and grandma's to drop off Christmas presents.  I always get courage from my 99 year old grandmother.  She is inspirational and amazing so I was glad to get a hug from her.

The first test was the echocardiogram and was at the hospital.  We went back up to the second floor where my surgery had been and I was happy to see my party receptionist was there again to greet me.  "I'm back," I said with a cheery smile and then reminded her I never got my margarita last time.  She smiled and took one of the dozens of sticky labels I had received downstairs when I checked in.  After confirming my name on my new ID bracelet, we turned to find a seat in the packed waiting room.  In the background, the TV was running details of the horrific elementary school shooting at Sandy Hook Elementary School in Connecticut.  I couldn't bare to watch.   It did remind me how lucky I was to be alive and getting ready to spend Christmas with my kids.

It was again a very short wait before I was called back.  The technician introduced himself, Ranson, a cool name I had never heard before, as we walked down the hall and into a small room with a sonogram machine and bed.  As I removed my top, the smell from my incision was noticeable to me once again.  I first notice the smell earlier that morning after getting out of the shower.  I decided to try to see someone at the physician's clinic after the test to get it checked out.

After removing my top and putting on a gown, Ranson had me lay on my left side. I quizzed him about his past, how he got into the field, how long he had worked there. He was actually from the heart hospital and was over helping fill in for someone on maternity leave. It made me feel good as we talked about the hundreds of heart he had seen. As I learned about his past, he reminded me a lot of one of my friends ex-husbands--proud of his skill level, a bit overconfident about just how great he was, but still very nice.  I like talking to the technicians and nurses about their lives instead of mine.  I think so many people are so focused on themselves and their problems that it is rare anyone asks or cares about the healthcare worker as a person.  I find all their backgrounds and different stories intriguing and admirable.

As Ranson started, he put the wand just below and between my breasts and the picture appeared on the screen of the machine.  He turned the screen so I could see and recognizing my interest and curiosity, was happy to share his knowledge about each item he saw.  I was sorry I hadn't asked if Greg could come back because it was amazing to see.  I could see all four chambers of my heart and a fun flapping piece that looked like it was dancing to its own beat.  He explained that was a valve between the chambers of the heart.  Soon there was color added which he explained represented the volume of blood flowing in, out, and through my heart.  "I'm not supposed to say anything, but you have a great looking heart," he said with a smile.  I told him I was going to paint a big red heart on my chest before getting there just to see if I could make someone laugh.  He chuckled and said just the thought of that made him laugh anyways.  He moved the wand into four different positions checking my heart from every angle, one way down by my belly.  I was glad my heart looked good and that he shared that with me.

When I returned to the waiting room, Greg was there alone.  He had sent Mike & Suzie to drop our car off to get some work done.  Greg looked sad and worried. "Are you ok," I asked? "I finally read your blog post from Monday," he replied.  He hadn't been able to read it after we met with Dr. C on Monday.  He was still in shock from what we heard and didn't want to relive it.  Greg's been struggling with all of this and though he's tried to be a trooper, it's been really tough on him.  I've always been his rock and now he's scared.  He's dealing with this plus he's in the middle of a really stressful website and has so much on his mind.  I assured him this was going to be a piece of cake and not to worry.

We left the hospital and went outside to walk over the the Cancer Center.  There was a brisk rush of cold air when the doors opened and I was glad the walkway was at least covered to shield us from the drizzle.  Before going inside, I called Dr Byrum's office.  I explained that the incision from my lymph nodes had been burning a bit and after showering that morning, I had noticed it was starting to smell.  Knowing we were in town, the receptionist was going to see if  nurse could see me and would call me shortly.

Once in the Cancer Center, we went in and down the hall to the lab.  They were busy too this mornings so we took a seat by the windows.  I went to check in and smiled at the sign that read, "Please tell us if you have a PICC or Port" realizing the next time I was there I'd have a Port.  "What's the difference between a PICC and a Port," I asked the receptionists.  They explained a PICC is in the arm and more temporary because it's more prone to infections.  A Port is more long-term.  "Hmmmm, guess that means I bought the long ride ticket since I'm getting a Port put in on Wednesday," I laughed.  The receptionist's smile dropped like she had suddenly done something wrong.    "No, it's okay," I quickly reassured her.  "I'm good."  She quickly tried to recover explaining that lots of people are getting Ports now.  Just as we were talking, a woman, maybe in her sixties with her head wrapped in a scarf, came up and interrupted our conversation.  She told the ladies something about her numbers being up and if she could keep them up, she was done.  They all cheered and then she assured them she would bring Christmas goodies by in a few days, even though her treatments were done for awhile.  I smiled and realized I would soon get to know these two ladies just as well over the next six months and then it would be my time for celebrating when it was my last visit.

Again I was quickly called back and sat in the same lab chair as before when they drew my blood prior to surgery.  Just as she was about to take blood, my phone rang and I knew the blocked number would mean it was a nurse.  She asked me to stop by on my way to the scan and I replied I would be there shortly.  After they took more labels and more vials of blood, we headed upstairs.  Dr. Byrum and Melissa were not in the office but another technician took me back to take a peek at the incision.  I took my top off again and the odor was noticeable to me but she didn't smell anything.  She went to get a PA to look at it.  The PA also didn't notice the smell and said it looked fine, but decided to remove the Sterile Strips and take a look. When she did, I saw the yellow pus on the strip. "Wow, yea there is a small infection starting.  You have a great nose," she said.  It hurt and burned as age squeezed the wound to remove the pus.  She brought in a small ultrasound machine to look inside the wound and see if there was anything below the internal stitches and there wasn't.  I had her take a picture off the incision w my phone so I could see it better and she showed me the two open spots where infection was just starting.  "Put a little Neosporan just on those two spots," she instructed.  Then she decided to remove the strips from my breast just to check those as well.  That was the first glimpse I had of that incision.  Wow, it was long but looked good.  It was just about a quarter of an inch above my nipple area and looked like a big frowny face.  Too bad it wasn't below my nipple so it would circle up and look like a smiley face I thought to myself.  The PA wanted to leave them both open so I pulled my top back on and headed out.

On down to the end of the hall on the second floor we went--same place I had my chest X-ray a few weeks ago.  They took us both back as soon as we got there.  I changed in the same little room as before but I received a gown and scrub pants this time.  They took me to sit in one of the recliners along the wall.  Three frowning men sat in the other recliners, some drinking stuff, some with IV's.  All looked unhappy to be there.   "Okay, I'm here so let's get this party started," I said but only the nurse laughed.  I asked her if they were having a big Christmas close out sell and if that was why they were so busy and she laughed again as well as the other nurse working with the gentleman next to me.  The three men remained stoic and never flinched.

A cute young nursing assistant with two short pony tails came over to take my vital signs and test my blood sugar.  I know a lot about blood sugar through our friend Suzie who is diabetic.  My blood sugar was 111.   I knew that was good and that Suzie would be proud when I turned down the cotton ball the nurse handed me after she poked me.  Next the nurse came to start the IV.  I asked her put it in my arm instead of my hand, which she did.  After she inserted the needle, nothing was attached to it--that was curious.  Maybe they rolled in the IV pole once I was in the relaxation room. Jed, the nurse who called me on the phone the previous day, came over and introduced himself and said he would be taking me back.  He explained that I couldn't use my phone as the solution they were putting inside me would be drawn to any moving muscle or moving body part, including my hands if I was texting.  That's why they wanted me to lay still and not talk.  I kissed Greg goodbye, handed him my phone then followed the nurse back to a very small room with a recliner.  On one wall was a tall rectangle picture that was backlit and had a red rock mountain with a waterfall on it.  I sat in the recliner and Jed covered me with warm blankets and handed me a call button.  He said Dave, the radiologist, would be in shortly to start the injection.  I asked for a glass of ice water and he said left to get it.  When I was left in silence, I began getting nervous.  This wasn't going to work.  I heard every sound and there was no way I was going to relax.  When Jed returned with my water, I asked if he could grab my phone from Greg because I was definitely going to need some music to relax.  He brought it right to me and I dialed in Pandora's relaxation station just before Dave came in rolling a cart.

There was still no IV as I expected, but there was definitely a syringe on the top of the cart along with an ominous looking long rectangle box.  Dave did a great job explaining what was going to happen.  He was going inject a sugary solution with a radioactive dye in it.  It would take about an hour and a half for that to circulate through my body.  The solution should be attracted to any cancer cells in my body and when I go through the scan machine, the radioactive material will light up any areas where the solution has accumulated.  He also warned me again not to text or move a lot as muscle activity will also attract the solution and give a false reading.  He told the story of a 20 year old man whose hands and wrists lit up after he spent his relaxation time texting.  They don't even want you reading because of the muscle movement.  I assured him my plan was to take a nap.

He picked up the needle and inserted it into my IV but didn't push the liquid in.  Instead, he reached for the heavy metal box.  It was sealed tightly with a suitcase looking clasp.  He opened the clasp then used both hands to lift the heavy hedged lid.  He took out a metal cylinder with the circumference of a silver dollar and the length of about 10 inches attached to a long needle on one end.  I swear it looked like something straight out of a Frankenstein movie.  He inserted the needle of that shot into a tube connected to the other shot.  Then he took the plunger on the metal shot and drew it back slowly, then pushed it forward again.  He repeated that motion three times and explained he was mixing the sugar solution from the other shot with the radioactive material in the metal shot.  Next he pushed the sugary solution shot into my IV until it was completely dispensed.  That was it.  The metal shot went back into its lead box and was sealed by securing the clasps.  He detached the other shot then pulled out my IV needle and disposed of both items in a sealed heavy lead canister in the corner of the room.  He asked if I had any questions then turned off the lights and said he would be back in about an hour and a half. The light from the picture was all that lit the room.  I leaned all the way back in the recliner, started my music, tucked under the warm blankets, and tried not to think about what had just been injected in to me.

It didn't take long to doze off as I hadn't slept well the night before.  The hour and a half went quickly as naps always seem to turn hours into minutes.  Soon there was a tap on the door and Dave came in.  He asked if I was ready and he said we would start in a few minutes.  Jed came in and said I needed to get my bladder as empty as possible so he took me across the hall to the "hot bathroom".  I laughed at the sign and even took a picture of it.  It was just too funny.  It wasn't a bathroom that was warm, but instead was a bathroom completely lined in lead.  This was because I was so radioactive and my urine was very potent.  The relaxation room we had been in was also lead lined.  Jed and Dave both wore little clips that were radioactive detectors.  Jed explained that because they were around so much radiation, they had to limit their exposure as much as possible.  If their little badge lit up, they were done working for a year so they were always over careful about exposure--hence, the lead-lined rooms.

After I used the "hot bathroom" we went down the hall to the room with the scanner.  I couldn't help but think about how I must be glowing.  The scanner was a huge donut-looking thing with a small cushioned backboard bed that obviously fit through the what seemed like an awfully small donut hole.  I sat on the edge of the bed waiting for Dave to rejoin us.  Jed said there were some technical difficulties Dave was fixing then he would be in.  I snickered as it reminded me of the doctor who said "oops" during my seed localization.  When Dave came in, he assured me it wasn't anything technical with the machine, but I couldn't help but giggle.  Jed laid me on the table, placed my arms above my head, covered them in blankets along with the rest of my body, and left the room so we could start.  The ceiling had pictures of poppies as shades over the fluorescent lights, and I stared at them until Dave's voice came over the intercom. "Okay Susan. You're about to make your first pass through the machine.  Remember to hold still and don't move, even when you get to the other side." Dave had explained earlier the first pass through would be the CAT scan.  Then the PET scan would start from the other side and pull me back through the machine. The CAT scan would be over quickly, but the PET scan would take 25 minutes.  Every three minutes my bed would move a few inches and the scan would start again.    It would scan every part of me from the top of my eyes to my thighs.  Over the intercom Dave reminded me how much more time was remaining.  Twice Jed actually came back in the room and checked on me and told me the time remaining.  As instructed, I didn't move a muscle other than my eyes scanning back and forth taking it all in.  Soon it was over and my bed returned to the starting position.  Jed allowed me to bring my now numb arms to my sides but had me stay put while Dave made sure the CT scan and the PET scan lined up.  They did so Jed unstrapped me and helped me up.  I asked to see a picture of the scans but Dave said there was nothing to see yet.  The computer had to render the images and merge them into one.  Jed explained I could get a copy of the scan on a disk on Monday over at records. That would be cool.

So that was it.  I got dressed and went out to the waiting area.  The potency of the radiation reduced by half every two hours so within 22 hours it should be all out of my system.  They suggested I drink lots of water to help it along.  The day of tests were done.  Now it was a waiting game once again.  All of the answers would be in on Monday.  Would the scan show other cancer or be clear?  Would the blood work be HER2 positive or negative?  Would I have more surgery or have the extended 6 months treatment after my 6 months of chemo?  It was all to be answered on Monday.  So for now, the tests were done, the jury was out, and it was just another waiting game.  It was time to leave the Cancer Center for now, enjoy a weekend with friends, and let my own happiness be my radiant glow!