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.

Today is Tuesday (day 2)

The very last thing I want to do is lull myself into a false sense of security, as that would be at best ridiculous and at worst detrimental.

But with that said...today was a lot of the same. Three major differences:
1. I arrived before the old panicky lady.
2. Today's shot was administered by Dr. Gonzales rather than Dr. Goldfarb.
3. Right arm, not left.

This week's biggest challenge has been making sure I tailor my wardrobe to that day's activity (as well as, you know, the weather). So the last two days I've worn sleeveless dresses with cardigans, for easy access to  shot locations. Thursday and Friday, I figure pants for the scan, so as to prevent any inadvertent flashage - and Friday easy sleeves, for the blood draw. Tomorrow? Whatever I want! Woohoo!

Now I have a canister of quick oats at my desk ('cause breakfast, of course). I'm a little miffed that I didn't think to track down saltless mixed nuts previously, because that's so much more exciting in trail mix than just plan cashews. And lunch? Pesto pasta.

What Gil(d)a Ate

Those who know me are generally (very kindly) indulgent about my obsession with Saturday Night Live. People nod and smile when I start quoting old sketches, and tend to be okay with the fact that I've basically memorized chunks of Live From New York (the SNL oral history). So here's one story:

During the first season, before people really knew who the cast were, they would basically warm up the audience at shows. Everyone would just come out, do a couple of minutes, give the audience a chance to get to know them as people. Gilda Radner did a thing called "What Gilda Ate," where she would literally sit on the edge of the stage and tell the audience what she'd eaten that day.

I have been doing that sort of thing here... so here's today.

Bananas. My stomach has been upset for several days - I think from nerves about this whole situation - so many bananas today. Pasta with tomato sauce, and for dinner...chicken soup, and rice.

Today is Monday (day 1)

Today? Today was the easy part. Well, sort of.

The most complicated parts of today were the buses and the old lady. This morning, I left the house about an hour earlier than I normally do, and took the bus to the city with my father. I got to my desk, took care of a couple of things, put my lunch in the refrigerator (a very important step, as we all know); and then headed out to the M15 Select bus down Second Avenue. (I got the 7-day unlimited MetroCard with express bus capability for this week, damn if I'm not going to get my money's worth.) My bus-standing skills continue to improve.

My appointments every day this week are at 9 AM. The woman with the 10 o'clock appointments was there at the same time. She was in her seventies and panicking about the testing. When I arrived she was asking questions, like, "I have to be here every day for a week? Will this hurt? Is it scary?"

And me? I'm not scared about the testing, just what it might portend. So I was busy trying to be upbeat, and be a good role model for the old lady.

The doctor lost the injection site. I mean, he gave me the shot, and then it took him a minute to find the injection site to put a bandage on it (I forget from time to time how freckly my arms are).

But all told, today was easy (and pretty painless).

When I got to work? Bananas. To eat, I mean.

May Be

So today is Sunday. At this point it's almost routine - pasta sauces for lunches, pack the lunches, freeze the grapes... but the difference this time is that, well...

Because it'll all be done by Friday. And yes, I'm becoming that insane person who's running around announcing that there will be sushi for lunch on Friday. I assume (that there will be sushi on Friday, not that I'm the insane person - I know that much).