Fast facts (if you don’t have time to read the full post): Welcome to Scan Friday! I had a CT scan, a bone scan, and an echo on my heart. Results are in and I need to discuss with my doctor some things I saw in my chart that seem a bit concerning (unrelated to my cancer diagnosis) but I got the call and I start chemo on Thursday, March 17 in the morning, around 9 am ish. I will meet with a nurse on Tuesday, March 15 to discuss my treatment and go over final details.

TO THE LONG VERSION!

For the record, I hate QR codes. If you’re my friend, you’ve seen my rants on Twitter and Instagram. You saw my rage during the Superbowl when the QR code bounced across the screen in that dumb commercial. If you’re my lucky co-workers, you’ve seen me rage quit at my desk over them. The technology is amazing but the implementation and lack of understanding by every day citizens (I would include myself in this category) on the functionality of QR codes is rampant. But I digress. You’re not here for that. I just felt like a QR code today when I was getting my scans, but a QR code that I like and feel is useful. Technology was reading my body to inform my medical team. I was both anxious and amazed at the experience.

The morning started with a visit to the nuclear medicine ward for my injection of tracers for my bone scan. The moment I heard “injection,” I offered up Harry Porter and the Prisoner of Cancerban aka my port! (Yes! I settled on a name!) I really tried to joke with the nurses but they weren’t really interested in my humor today. I was sad. I didn’t get to tell anyone the name of my port except for my emotional support human I brought with me. She laughed. She likes my dumb puns. My first Capri Sun stabbing into my port was a success!!! I made sure to numb it up real good with my lidocaine cream and I literally felt nothing as the little needle made contact. I also got special numbing spray. I felt VIP.

After my injection, I was escorted to my CT scan. They kept the needle in my port so I could receive contrast for that scan and potentially something different for the echo. CT scans are way shorter than MRI’s which is great. I got to experience the contrast injection that makes you feel like you’re peeing yourself. I didn’t actually get that sensation. It felt more like a first shot of tequila on a completely empty stomach. You feel the warmth rush to your head and then it spreads all of your body. Then they flushed my port and for a small second my mouth tasted like the essence of a plastic beach ball. Like you know when you are blowing it up? The salt is in the air and your toes are in the sand. And that ball is in your mouth and it is weirdly gross and nostalgic. I am going to be tasting that a lot I think. Gross.

I got a small break between my CT and heart echo. I spent almost an hour with the echo dude talking about prostate cancer and great restaurants to eat in Spokane and how he believes Putin has a terminal illness. The echo itself (essentially an ultrasound) was actually rather uncomfortable. He really was digging around my left breast to get the best images of my heart. I know he was doing his job and he did it well, but fuck that was probably the most uncomfortable I have been during all of my procedures! That includes my biopsy! Wait, scratch that. My first mammogram was a bitch. My poor cancer boob got crushed hard. Oof. Echo comes second. The breast biopsy and specifically the MRI IV are tied for third. Just in case we are keeping track.

We ended the day back in nuclear medicine for my bone scan. Essentially I was on a bed thing that went into a large cylindrical type machine and got pushed out slowly, almost like a pizza on a conveyor belt. I was hot and ready! Well I was cold but I was ready to be done. At that point, it was almost 4 pm and I was super hungry since I hadn’t eaten since 10 am and imagining myself like a pizza was the only way I could get through my last appointment. Luckily it was painless and I got my needle removed and off I went to the Red Robin to reward myself for surviving Scan Day.

I have to say I have loved meeting all of my nurses and techs and doctors during this process to prepare me for treatment. I wish I could photograph everyone I am meeting on this journey. I have to constantly remind myself of their humanity in a profession that is viewed so God like. The conversations sometimes bring me down to earth with them. They also calm me. I feel less like a specimen and more like a normal human when I can just have a small conversation about my life beyond my cancer diagnosis.

Initially, I was under the impression that my chemotherapy would start the week of March 21. I thought this because I had scans all day today and I wasn’t meeting with my oncologist until March 17 to review my scans. Imagine my surprise getting a call from the cancer center 40 minutes after my last appointment telling me I have chemo on March 17. I kept my tears out of my burger I was eating but I felt my world crashing down. I felt time warping into itself. I thought I had more time. I need more time. The trouble is, you think you have time.

The pro in all of this is that we are moving to treat this cancerous mess as soon as possible. That I am grateful for. The urgency is daunting. I am still grappling with my diagnosis. I went from thinking I had 13 days to 6 days to prepare. In 6 days my body will begin it’s transformation. In 6 days I will begin to lose my hair. In 6 days I will have poisons in my body. In 6 days everything changes.

T-minus six days until the first round of chemo. Ready or not, here I go.

Today’s song lyric of the day is brought to you by Calvin Harris. This is dedicated to one of my favorite nurses in California if he reads this since we used to blare this leaving WSU Tri-Cities on Friday’s. 2009 Calvin Harris is my favorite Calvin Harris. Here’s to my last weekend before chemo.

“You get a feeling, that’s what you choose
And I was told there was not a minute to lose
So if you’re waiting, jump out your skin
To find a cure for whatever state you’re in”

– Ready For The Weekend, Calvin Harris