Not With A Bang

I slept through both scans. Lying still for 40 minutes or so, trying not to notice the scanner plate two inches from my face, with instructions not to move - of course I fell asleep.

This morning was the blood draw; I was due at Quest on Austin Street at 7:30. Now, I was a tiny bit behind - but apparently all of Forest Hills had decided that they needed to be at Quest first thing this morning. Nobody had an appointment, only two phlebotomists were working, and man did everyone get cranky when I got to go in. (You know, because I had an appointment.) Granted, it was not a great stick - the good bleeder is the vein on the outside of my arm, and she used the one on the inside...and the bruise is enormous. 

Then I went down to Beth Israel, and got right in and got in the scanner. And after I got out, the radiologist who'd spoken to me on Monday (about Ramah, and offering to be a medical reference for a future shidduch who might have questions about my health and cancer history) brought me into his office, and showed me the pictures. He said the scan could not have gone any better.

So pending the results of the blood draw, it appears that I'm fine.

After consuming every waking thought for the past three weeks, the scan process is over. It was quick, and I was surprised by how fast it happened. 

Thursday Morning

The first three days were cake. I don't like needles but I can handle shots, and I take pills like a pro.

Today, though? Today I'm nervous. And it's like my phone knew it, because as soon as I sat down on the bus what music started? The Musical Heritage Society recording of Pachelbel's Canon - for my money, the most beautiful recording of it I've ever heard.

So I'm sitting here, trying to be calm (trying is the operative word, of course). 19 blocks left to go.

Today is Wednesday (Day 3)

First off, this has struck me funny for three days and I just thought to take a picture of it this morning.

On Monday morning, I asked if the hospital didn't want anyone to know that Nuclear Medicine was there.

I am officially radioactive. So, babies and preggos, stay at least 6 feet away for the next two days, okay? 

Right now I just feel resigned. It's just happening - there's no way to turn back now, even if I wanted to. Not that I actually do, I suppose; it's just getting bigger and realer.