As some of you know, I was diagnosed with cervical cancer in early 2009. After chemo and radiation treatments that ended that May, I went back to work, had a couple of clear pap smears, and was feeling pretty good. Then came the PET scan in February 2010, which showed that the cancer, while no longer in the initial area, had moved north to a para aortic lymph node. I wrote about this in a diary in February 2010. It was déjà vu for me, as there was another round of chemo and radiation that ended that May, in time for me to finish the last three weeks of the semester and retire. I had a couple more chemo sessions in August for good measure. I wrote a diary the following August about my adventures with crappy veins and a port, but with the good news of a negative PET scan.
Well it's six months later, and you know what that means--another PET scan. I thought I'd write something about it as it happened. Check below the koscurlicue to see what I mean.
The day of the scan
Right after a negative PET scan is a great time to enjoy yourself. It means that all the aches and pains you were afraid were a recurrence weren't. I can remember how free I felt at the time. But there is a price to pay. Sure enough, the next six months starts to roll around, and it's time to pay attention to every ache and pain again. My mind has a great capability to focus on what might be, so I have to work on telling myself to just put it out of mind and take the test when the time comes. The result will either be another six months of not worrying right away, or time to face a bunch of treatments again. I took the PET scan today (It's January 19th as I'm writing this part.) and while I wait for the results, which I should get next week, I thought I'd pass on some thoughts about the PET scan itself.
I imagine some, but perhaps not all of you have had the experience. My first problem is getting them to use my port for the injection before the scan. I explained some of my problems about that before. The last place I went to gave me a hard time twice. The first time was bad enough, but the second time the woman couldn't even read the records correctly and thought I hadn't used the port previously. I was so upset I wrote a letter complaining. I even received a response with an apology and a promise that it wouldn't happen again.
That promise was easy to keep, as the place I had gone to closed, and I was sent to the hospital this time. I called ahead to make sure they'd have a nurse available to access the port, and they assured me they would. When I got there today, they first explained that the doctor preferred that they try a regular vein first. That activated all my agitation genes, as I explained that the reason I still had the port in was specifically for the PET scan, and that I had had trouble with veins for years. They said they would just get the nurse.
PET scans require that you remain in the same position without moving for what always seems to be a long period of time. The first important thing is to be comfortable. I am never comfortable lying on my back, so along with the pillow they put under my knees, I also asked for something under the small of my back. Finally, I told them that I couldn't raise my arms above my head for any length of time, so they used a velcro wrap to keep my arms by my sides. I was talking to someone last night who remembered yelling that she couldn't take the pain anymore because her shoulders hurt so much. I told her next time to ask to have her hands at her sides. I don't know if this works for PET scans of all areas, but it worked for mine.
I have an aerobic exercise routine I do a few times a week, as well as a tap dance class I attend. I don't always practice the tap dance with my shoes on the floor, but I often practice it in my head. During previous PET scans, I went over the dance in my head during the procedure, to help pass the time. This time I decided to be more scientific. I timed one complete aerobic set at almost three minutes. Then I timed the part of this semester's dance at about a minute and a half. I asked how many minutes the PET scan would take, and they said it would be thirty minutes. I figured it would be about four and a half minutes if I did both routines, and I would have to do about seven sets to finish.
When the scan started, I was off and dancing (in my head of course). The mind wanders, however, and I let it, restarting where I had left off, and keeping tract of how many sets I had done. I was on set three when they told me I was finished. Wow! What a surprise. That was the best PET scan I ever had. I bet if you don't dance, you could time a song or two, and sing them in your thoughts to achieve the same result.
The next week
Here it is a week later (January 26) and I got good news. It's time to put it all in the back of my mind for a few months until the next scan. May you all have negative scans in the future.
Monday Night Cancer Club is a Daily Kos group focused on dealing with cancer, primarily for cancer survivors and caregivers, though clinicians, researchers, and others with a special interest are also welcome. Volunteer diarists post Monday evenings between 7-8 PM ET on topics related to living with cancer, which is very broadly defined to include physical, spiritual, emotional and cognitive aspects. Mindful of the controversies endemic to cancer prevention and treatment, we ask that both diarists and commenters keep an open mind regarding strategies for surviving cancer, whether based in traditional, Eastern, Western, allopathic or other medical practices. This is a club no one wants to join, in truth, and compassion will help us make it through the challenge together.