‹ Back

        I am actually looking forward to my CT scans over the next two days.  I have the bone scan on Monday at the Down-the-Street hospital and the organ scan on Tuesday at the Outside-the-Perimeter hospital.   I also have my Plastic Surgeon appointment on that same Monday in West Bumble Butt and a urologist appointment at the Down-the-Street hospital Tuesday morning.  I could collect my hospital bracelets and wallpaper a bathroom wall at this point.  I suspect I’ll have enough to wallpaper the basement by the time this is all said and done.

        I say I’m looking forward to the scans because that’s the biggest question I have: are there any other areas in my body where cancer is hiding?  Also, I’m pretty sure that I just have to lay there for those scans.  I’m good at just lay there.  Just ask my husband.

        Monday morning I go to get injected with the contrast for my bone scan.  It’s at Down-the-Street hospital, so no big journey.  The contrast has to circulate through my body for a few hours, so I’ll have to come back for the actual scan around lunchtime.  I can do this.

        Dan Levy was my tech.  He had the cool swoopy hair. He had the glasses.  I complimented him on his hair and asked if he uses a blow dryer.  Nope.  Product alone.  Only takes 5 minutes.  He told me he went to New Orleans with a friend and she was so surprised with how low-maintenance he is.  He said she spent a ton of time in the bathroom and even started taking over his side of the bed with all of her beauty products.  Apparently his beauty is speedy.

        When I went back for the actual scan, I was relieved to know that I did, in fact, just have to lay there.  They rubberbanded my feet together to keep me as still as possible.  I was worried at the very end that the rubberband had worked its way up my shoes and was about to fling across the room.  Dan Levy took it off before it could become a weapon.

        That afternoon I had to go to the plastic surgeon consultation, which is in itself its own story.  I mention it, though, because I found it ironic that Dan Levy spoke of his vacation in New Orleans in the morning, and by the late afternoon, I was being flashed boobies, as if I were in New Orleans.  Life just be like that sometimes.

        On Tuesday morning, I had my urologist appointment (apparently I’m good at growing kidney stones).  The urologist’s nurse told me I’m in great spirits and really handling all of this cancer stuff well.  She told me about her best friend who is going through breast cancer, including chemotherapy.  She lost all of her hair, and her friend is pretty mad about it.  I told her, “You wanna know how I’m handling that prospect?  I’m GROWING hair, just in case I have to have chemo.”  And I lifted my pant leg to show her the mane of hair I’ve been working on.  She just about died!  I told her I’m thinking of it as reverse psychology–maybe if I grow my leg and armpit hair, then I won’t need chemo and I’ll be like darn…sounded like free electrolysis.. I mean sheesh, I’m already getting a free boob job.  Go with the free electrolysis.  Maybe if I look forward to the torturous treatments, they either A) won’t actually happen or B) won’t seem as bad.  I watched both of my parents suffer and die from the treatments of cancer, so I know what it can be like.  I know how BAD it can be.  But that’s why I’m ahead of the game.  I can go in knowing, and come out stronger, ESPECIALLY if it ends up being easier than what they went through.  As in I end up actually surviving.    

        A couple hours after my urologist appointment (no more blood in my urine woot!), I headed off to my organ scan.  I had to fast for a couple hours prior to the scan, so I ate breakfast.  This scan was scheduled at the Outside-the-Perimeter hospital.  All these hospitals!  All different parking lots!  All different staff!

        I parked my car and started making my way towards the building.  There was some sort of event going on with food trucks, balloons, someone on a microphone.  I found it very mean to be having such an event with all that food when patients like me were not allowed to eat.  Were, in fact, hungry because we’ve been fasting.  Just down right torturous.  

        I walked past a car that had just rolled the window down.  “You said you had a lot of appointments yesterday and today!” What the what?  Who is talking to me?  I looked over and it was Dan Levy eating food-truck tacos in his car in the parking lot of the Outside-the-Perimeter hospital.  How weird.

        “Oh hi!  You know, I didn’t tell you this yesterday, but you really look like Dan Levy.  Have you ever gotten that before?”

        “No.  But a kid asked me if I was Iron Man.”  

        “Ah!  Robert Downey, Jr.  I could see that.  But I totally see Dan Levy.” 

        Apparently Dan Levy was there for his own appointment.  But I really think he came for the food-truck tacos.  They looked amazing.

        Sarah was my nurse at the organ scan.  I told her how mean it was that they were having a food event when patients like me were having to fast.  She told me about what each food truck was serving.  The very last one, furthest from the building, has funnel cakes.  I love funnel cakes.  I go to Six Flags FOR the funnel cakes.  I don’t care if they cost $18.99.  I love funnel cakes.  I know they’re just fried dough.  But oh my goodness, there’s something about a funnel cake that makes me feel a little closer to heaven.  I’m jus sayin’.  She told me the event goes until 2 PM.  She looked at her watch.  “1:47.  Now it’s a challenge.  We’ll see if we can’t get you out there to those funnel cakes.”

        The internal organ scan required slightly more than just lay there.  I had to hold my breath a couple times.  For a few seconds.  So I couldn’t take a nap, but I could feel like I was resting.  When Sarah pulled me out of the machine, she said, “It’s 1:58.  Go get you a funnel cake!”

        Oh my goodness I flew out of there like my arse was on fire.  Thank goodness we were on the first floor so that I didn’t have to navigate stairs or wait for an elevator.  I walked with the longest strides, trying not to run to those funnel cakes.  I swiftly maneuvered past scrubbed nurses and doctors.  I swept past the taco truck, the pizza truck, the burger truck.  There were two ladies in front of the funnel cake truck, speaking to the funnel cake lady.  They’ll keep it open for me!  I’m going to make it!

        “Hi!  Are you guys still serving?” I ask, trying to contain my excitement.

        “Yes we are!  Do you have your ticket?”  

        I’m sure my face fell.  “Ticket?”

        “Yep, this is for the employees.  You have to have a ticket.”

        I’d like to tell you that the woman slipped me a funnel cake.  That she looked to her left and to her right and slid the styrofoam container full of funnel cake deliciousness across the ledge to me.  But she didn’t.  Or that Dan Levy walked up behind me and handed me his leftover ticket.  But that didn’t happen either.  This was real life and in real life I’m not a hospital employee.  This was for employees only.  But, if I ever see Sarah again, I’ll let her know that I tried!  I made it in time!  It just wasn’t for me.  And because I DID make it in time and gave it the good ole’ college try, it kinda feels like I got the funnel cake.  I went and got Waffle House instead.  Just as comforting.  I guess sometimes in life you get the funnel cake and sometimes you get the Waffle House.