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I truly wish there were pets involved.
If somebody had given me a hamster to hold on to, or a guinea pig or a puppy, I'd have been a lot happier than I was. I do suppose that I've voiced that opinion before, but this time, it would really have been nice because I was stuck in the machine a tad longer than I thought I was supposed to be, and I was stuck in the middle.
Claustrophobic people do not do well in that situation.
My right hand vein collapsed, so the guy, James, had to use the left hand. Luckily, it worked.
I got the isotope or whatever radioactive stuff it is called then had to wait 45 minutes for it to travel through my body. Then when in the machine (sans bra, which is pretty scary in itself) they had to stop something and start again when I was asked "where is your Hodgkins, Irene?"
I don't have Hodgkins. I have NON-Hodgkins lymphoma...totally different. Or supposedly. So I told James that there was something located above the diaphragm but most of it was below the diaphragm, what I had been told by the oncologist. That the mass was near the spleen and pancreas.
So he said he had to readjust the machine to cover more.
Somewhere in there I mentioned that this was sort of life or death for me...I don't think he got it, but well, to me, IT IS LIFE OR DEATH.
If there is something worse, or something more, and they can't treat it, well, let's face it, I'm dogfood.
Now, I don't like to think this way, but still and all, that glass is half empty all the time for Irene.
And I haven't seen any angels other than Dr. Khalid, and I'm not sure Muslims count as angels, not live, in the flesh ones, even if they are doctors bearing good news.
As I told my brother on the phone this afternoon, I worry and it is what I happen to do best.
Remember the other day when I said to the primary doctor that I wanted somebody to tell me the cancer was all gone and that I was going to be all right?
If somebody had given me a hamster to hold on to, or a guinea pig or a puppy, I'd have been a lot happier than I was. I do suppose that I've voiced that opinion before, but this time, it would really have been nice because I was stuck in the machine a tad longer than I thought I was supposed to be, and I was stuck in the middle.
Claustrophobic people do not do well in that situation.
My right hand vein collapsed, so the guy, James, had to use the left hand. Luckily, it worked.
I got the isotope or whatever radioactive stuff it is called then had to wait 45 minutes for it to travel through my body. Then when in the machine (sans bra, which is pretty scary in itself) they had to stop something and start again when I was asked "where is your Hodgkins, Irene?"
I don't have Hodgkins. I have NON-Hodgkins lymphoma...totally different. Or supposedly. So I told James that there was something located above the diaphragm but most of it was below the diaphragm, what I had been told by the oncologist. That the mass was near the spleen and pancreas.
So he said he had to readjust the machine to cover more.
Somewhere in there I mentioned that this was sort of life or death for me...I don't think he got it, but well, to me, IT IS LIFE OR DEATH.
If there is something worse, or something more, and they can't treat it, well, let's face it, I'm dogfood.
Now, I don't like to think this way, but still and all, that glass is half empty all the time for Irene.
And I haven't seen any angels other than Dr. Khalid, and I'm not sure Muslims count as angels, not live, in the flesh ones, even if they are doctors bearing good news.
As I told my brother on the phone this afternoon, I worry and it is what I happen to do best.
Remember the other day when I said to the primary doctor that I wanted somebody to tell me the cancer was all gone and that I was going to be all right?
I haven't changed my mind.