I'm the Star

It occurred to me today that since last Wednesday's revelation I have almost felt like I was in a dream.  Then I realized that it was actually a movie, a horror movie.  I'm the star in my own horror movie and the monster is "cancer" (and the director and producer too).  In my movie, I don't know the ending or what is going to happen next.  The monster is lurking out there and it's going to be a surprise when he jumps out.  I just hope that the ending is a good one.  I feel bad that all the "actors" in my movie are my friends, family, co-workers and doctors and that they are all in the same boat with me.  They are acting their part in supporting roles, each of which are so very important.  When I read books, I always skip to the last 2 or 3 pages so I can see what happens in the end.  That's what's bad about movies.  You can't do that.  You just have to wait.  I realized that today was one of the first days of waiting of many more to come.  It starts out gently at first......

My PET/CT scan this morning was not too bad.  I think as far as scans, like MRI, or CT, this one was kind of cool.  Basically, they prick your finger for sugar in the blood (like for diabetes - my friend Paul Bird has one of these little units that we played with once).  Then, you just get an iv put in your arm.  After that, they send you go off into a private room to sit in a comfy recliner listening to Yanni on the boom box and drink a lemony drink for an hour.  Oh ya, I almost forgot.  That happens after the radiologist shoots you up with a nuclear cocktail that makes your insides look purdy for the camera.  It wasn't a normal shot.  It was in a space age metal thing about the size of a small carry on size hair spray in a metal radiation proof container.  I'm not supposed to go around small children or pregnant women for a day or two if I can help it.

After an hour of relaxation and letting the stuff take hold of your insides, you undress into everyone's favorite backless gown and go lie down on a long table with your knees propped up on a foam triangle.  The radiologist covers you up with those yummy warm towels they have in hospitals, you listen to Beach Boys (or whatever you want to, I chose Beach Boys. Next time, I'll be smarter and bring my own music and a magazine - note to self).  Then you slide in and out of what resembles a giant white donut for 30 minutes, and all the while you are not supposed to move.  Boy do you want to itch when they tell you not to move, or sneeze, or cough, or wiggle your toes....  

The radiologist was super nice.  Her name was Penny.  She is very experienced.  I'm sure we're going to be great friends.  I wanted to ask her to take a photo of me going into the giant donut but I just don't know if that is PC (politically correct) yet in this stage of our relationship so I didn't.  I'm sure Penny and I are going to be great friends soon.

Tomorrow is the BIG day, the first of many.  Today's scene in my movie was just the preview.  I meet with Dr. Gregg at 1:30 so she can tell me what's next.  So far, the worst part is the wait.   You just never know when the monster is going to jump out.  But, the one thing I know is that usually the hero wins in the movies I watch and defeats the monster; even the monsters that keep on getting up.  Since,  I'm the hero and the star of my movie, I think that's what's going to happen.  We'll all have to wait and see what happens next.

Sitting in my comfy chair with warm blankies relaxing

My cute pink bandage and lemony drink to show my insides

Yumm!  See, I can do it.  Much tastier than the Movi Prep (for colonoscopy)