July 25, 2010
Again the scans...
As I’ve made abundantly clear in the past, I HATE scans....especially the PET/CT kind. So, I was pretty impressed with myself a week ago Sunday night when I was totally at peace about the scans I had scheduled for early Monday (July 19) morning. I even decided that I was such a big girl that I didn’t need anyone to go with me. In hindsight...not so brilliant as I thought. Oh well.
Here’s the lo-down. As ALWAYS, I went to see “my girls” first to have a line started. I refuse to have the scan techs put a line in me. If you don’t know why, Angela’s Scans (January 2009) will fill in the blanks. Since, I was at total peace Sunday evening, I was surprised to find out that my veins didn’t agree with me. Apparently I was anxious because my veins were flat. Yet somehow, my girl Tu...after some gentle digging...managed to make it work, as always.
So, I head next door to the imaging area, drink my yucky contrast drink, wait the mandatory 45 minutes for the drink to make it’s way through my system, then get called back to my little room. Now, when I go in for scans, I make sure that I don’t wear anything with metal in it, on it, around it, under it, through it...because I DON’T want to change clothes. I always FREEZE during the scans. The rooms are kept at an Arctic temperature so even if it’s warm outside, I layer. I was explaining to the male tech that “NO I don’t have any metal on any part of my clothing.” He says, “well, I assume you have a bra on.” And before I could explain that what I had on didn’t have any wire in it, he decided to check for himself. UGGHHHH!!! He didn’t even bother to ask. Just decided for himself that it was OK to find out if I had any wire underneath my shirt.
Then I tell him that I already have my line started and his ego gets all out of sorts. He begins explaining to me that I can always trust him to start my line. I try to explain - but he’s not listening - that I get anxious around needles and my veins collapse making it a challenge to get the line started. He looks at my arm and starts counting all the good veins I have and then gloatingly states “I could do it. You don’t need to go next door (to my girls).” The dude’s pride is so injured that he doesn’t even take into consideration that I’m doing this FOR ME!!! I don’t want to pass out again. Please, my girl was challenged getting a vein that morning. Can’t even imagine what it would have been like having Mr. Tech poking around in my arm.
Now begins the 45 minutes wait so that the radioactive gunk can do it’s magic with the contrast gunk. The wait is over and Mr. Tech comes in to take me to the scan room. He hands me another cup of contrast gunk to drink and, instead of waiting for me to finish my drink, indicates with a “gentle” push, that I need to get on the scan bed. So, I’m sitting there trying to drink the gunk and Mr. Tech decides that my sweater needs to come off. THERE IS NO METAL ON MY VERY LIGHT WEIGHT SWEATER. Just much needed long sleeves. Picture this...I’m sitting on the scan bed trying to finish a drink that tastes horrid and Mr. Tech wants my sweater off RIGHT AWAY. He decides to remove it himself literally yanking it off my shoulders and arms WHILE I’m trying not to spill the gunk. I have one free hand. Smacking this dude across the face is something worth pursuing. Oh...and my sweater is a long one so not only is he yanking it off my shoulders and off my arms but I’m sitting on it so I’m trying to lift up before it gets torn all without spilling my drink. And with one useable arm. Good thing I’m coordinated.
Don’t touch my sweater Jerk.
The sweater comes off, I finish the drink so now it’s time to lie down and begin the scans. I have blanket (remember, I’m in Arctic temps) on me but it only goes from just above my mid-section to my feet. I place my arms above my head because they have to be. Mr. Tech decides to “help” me be more comfortable so he folds a pillow in half, smashes it onto my forehead, partially covers my eyes, and places my arms on top of the pillow. Not only was this NOT more comfortable but all I could think about was “Oh great, now I’m going to have smashed bangs.”
Mr. Tech begins the scans. After a couple of minutes, he comes over to me, looks at the goosebumps all over my arms and asks, “Are you cold?” Seriously dude, are you kidding me? You yank off my sweater, I’m in a bitter cold room and you have the gall to ask if I’m cold?! Duh!!!! He says that he’ll get something that I’ll like and brings back a warmed blanket. I was thrilled. That is until he placed it across both my arms, across the pillow, and over my face making it impossible to see. Thankfully, I could still breathe. With a little chuckle in his voice, Mr. Tech says, “I hope you’re not claustrophobic.” I didn’t answer because, I am, but I don’t want him touching me again. And, I needed the blanket.
Scans are finally over...but I don’t realize it. Mr. Tech slaps me on my knees to let me know. Then proceeds to yank the blankets off of me and pulls the pillow out from underneath my knees causing my legs to crash on the bed. I’ve been laying down with my arms above my head for 30 minutes. My hip is doing MUCH better than it was however, it quickly gets stiff and I most often have to move slowly for the first first steps. Mr. Tech was expecting me to hop off that bed and skip on out of the room. I moved quickly, for me, but only because I was eager to get away from him.
Bye, bye Jerk.
On Tuesday, I received the results of my scans. I’ll write about that soon.