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dcnovice -> DC Update: Bug Juice and Boredom (6/21/2016 7:13:43 PM)
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June 21, 2016
Bug Juice and Boredom
Dear Ones ---
In many of the more relaxed civilizations on the Outer Eastern Rim of the Galaxy, the Hitchhiker’s Guide has already supplanted the great Encyclopedia Galactica as the standard repository of all knowledge and wisdom, for though it has many omissions and contains much that is apocryphal, or at least wildly inaccurate, it scores over the older, more pedestrian work in two important respects. First, it is slightly cheaper; and second, it has the words DON’T PANIC inscribed in large friendly letters on its cover. -- DOUGLAS ADAMS
Yesterday, I went for the second or third—I can’t recall—PET scan of my medical odyssey. To my mild surprise and major delight, all went smoothly. The wait was reasonable, the IV went in on the first try, lying nearly flat on my back didn’t prompt a breathing crisis, and sedatives kept my claustrophobia in check. The tube was somewhat reminiscent of an MRI, but mercifully lacked the heat and the ear-splitting, arrhythmic sound track.
The two great challenges of the procedure were bug juice and boredom. Bug juice was the classic mealtime beverage at Boy Scout camp. It had a red shade found nowhere in nature and a flavor somewhere between cherry and strawberry cough syrups. Its name stemmed from its unfailing ability, indoors or out, to lure flies.
I hadn’t realized that campground concoction was available anywhere beyond the world of Scouting, but Mother Georgetown somehow got her hands on a supply, half a liter of which came my way as the delivery system for the oral contrast needed for the scan. Getting it down was a feat. I eventually figured out that if I bent my tongue into a U-shape, I could siphon the juice fairly quickly and with minimal assault on my taste buds. Whatever works.
There was no clock in the scanning room, so I’m not sure how long I lay there. It felt like forever. I had a brief, odd feeling that I should be panicking, but then realized I didn’t need to. Aside from the inevitable itchiness that arises anytime I’m told to stay still, I was fine. But I did need to occupy my mind. So I resorted to a tactic from my radiation days and spent the time thinking of things I was grateful for. After the usual suspects—family, friends, church, colleagues, cat—the list got a bit eccentric, touching on the redecoration of the hallways in my apartment building, favorite fonts, and White House china patterns. But hey, it worked.
Today brought the radiologist’s report, which is but the first round of results. The scan showed a few areas of “hypermetabolic” activity. One, of course, was LiLL (lobe in left ling), whom we already know to be malignant and plan to evict. The others could be any number of things; PET results, my oncologist counseled, can be “messy.” So, like those relaxed folks on the Outer Eastern Rim of the Galaxy, we plan not to panic.
My oncologist will review the findings in the context of my clinical history. Meantime, I’ll meet on July 6th with a radiation oncologist about using CyberKnife to dispatch LiLL. I really have run the medical-technology gamut, from leeches and cadaver bone to titanium and robotic surgery!
Then I’ll powwow with my oncologist about what happens. Barring a major upset, I’m guessing we’ll proceed with CyberKnife radiation treatment(s), and he’ll probably put me on a course of preventive chemo.
And that’s pretty much my report for tonight. Love, thanks, and towels to you all!
Cheers,
DC
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