Getting Relaxed and Chatty

Getting a Ct/Pet scan is a deeply relaxing experience, and next time I'm going to remember that and stay up late the night before. First they took me into an unadorned room with green walls, a recliner chair and a counter with a sink. I was injected with a radioactive isotope. Then I had to recline in the chair and stay as still as possible for an hour while it made its way through my system. No reading, no listening to music, nothing. Just sitting there quietly in the plain green room. Fortunately I am used to yoga breathing and going within so I wasn't screaming with boredom. After about 45 minutes someone came in and gave me two valium.

Next I was taken to the scan room, the one with a huge sticker announcing radioactivity on the door. Same sticker on the recliner chair room and on the bathroom I was directed to use. I am told to avoid babies, small children and pregnant women for 24 hours. The scanner is similar to an MRI, except instead of one long tube it is two donut shaped tubes. The table had a comfy mattress, and they gave me a bolster for my legs and a pillow with an indentation for my head. That and the straps on my legs and arms prevent movement. The scan took close to an hour. The table moved me back and forth through the scanner, slowly. Wiggy on two valium, I feel asleep right away. I woke up shortly before the scan was over and had that panicky moment where I had no idea where I was and why my arms wouldn't move.

As I posted yesterday, certain drugs make me chatty. Pain meds and valium, apparently. I could not shut up afterward when Casey took me to lunch and drove me to SLO for my labs prior to today's chemo. I talked non-stop in the chemo room, which was full. Later I realized as I was chatting away with my nurse the rest of the patients were silent. I think I was dominating the room. Embarrassing!! Why would a sedative make me unable to stop talking? Who knows.

The actual experience of being in the scanner is sort of cool. It's like a cozy savasana, or final relaxation in yoga. Afterward, despite the manic chatter, I felt very calm.

Yesterday before we left for the scan I posted my affirmation that the scan would be clear and my CA125 would be in single digits. Apparently I was unclear and people thought it was the results. Apologies! I get the results today when I see my oncologist. That entire hour in the recliner chair I was visualizing myself cancer free forever and chanting it in my head. I was asking everyone to visualize, chant, or pray with me. Next time I'll be more clear!

My week off was wonderful, but it ends today. On with the fight!

Namaste, Jill