Understanding what we were contending with took some time.  The short story is that our surgeon pegged it right from the start and this was seconded by the surgeon in NYC from whom we sought a second opinion.  The longer story is that I underwent an MRI, a CT scan and a bone scan in one day, and metastatic disease could not be completely ruled out because of some spots that showed up on a rib, my kidney and adrenal gland.  This lead to a PET/CT scan.

MRI/BONE/CT scan day:

MRI  At the first hospital I had an IV port put in my right arm.  The MRI machine has a special table for breast shots.  Basically there are two cups at the head of the bed.  One simply just hovers over and aims for the cups.  “Put all your weight on your sternum.”  Wow, what a concept.  Arms were over my head with the contrast IV easily accessible.  It was actually not too uncomfortable.  I was warned that it would be loud.  As each different sound came I had different visions.  I focused on the whoosh at first and imagined great waves washing away the cancerous cells and taking them way out to the cleansing sea.  The clanging reminded me of a rain dance where all my supporters were stomping their feet, pounding their fists on the ground.  The last sound that I cannot really describe had me thinking of pac-man eating up disease, an image shared with me by a sister in remission.  The contrast was put in about half way through the procedure.  I was told that the speed at which the contrast shows up in each area is indicative of how much cancer there is…or something like that.

Bone Scan injection  After B had lunch (I had water) we went to the Nuclear medicine area at the other hospital and another IV port was inserted.  The tech was extremely pleasant.  He used my other arm, noticing that I’d “already been abused” today.  He injected one syringe of clear liquid, and of course like most others I asked if I was going to glow in the dark.  I was to come back 3 hours later for the scan and was told to drink a lot.  The CT scan was going to require drinking of a special concoction, and he said that would suffice for the required liquids for the bone scan.

CT Scan We went downstairs and I was promptly given a choice between the flavors of lemon aid, strawberry kiwi or fruit punch for the CT scan.  The lemon aid was tart and sweet and B chided me to chug the thing rather than torture myself.  An attendant came out 45 minutes later with another tall drink and said I had 45 more minutes to let this all get into my system.  I chugged this one too.  It gave me the willies.  I was so done with drinking by the end of the day!!  When I was called in for the CT scan, B had to stay in the waiting room.  The scan took like 5 minutes.  It was interesting to see the machine, and to hear this English male voice tell me to hold my breath and release as the scanner moved me through.  They scanned my whole trunk from shoulders to pelvis.

We had about 1 hour to wait before the bone scan was scheduled, so we took a nice walk around the grounds.  A wonderful golden retriever (I think his name was Frasier) was outside and I got to mush him a bit and talk to his human grand-father.  The day enabled B and I to have conversations that we never seem to get to in our everyday life, and this was a good break for us.

Bone Scan We were accepted 5 minutes early for the bone scan.  It was so well choreographed.  The tech was waiting at the elevator for us and took us into the scanning room where there was a table with a scanning device hanging over it.  I lay down and it basically took me under the scanner very slowly. There were computer monitors all over for us to be able to see the image.  Tech told us that it would look like sparkling stars, with dense areas like my bladder and maybe my toes.  When I started I was completely under the scanner.  It moved down to within a couple inches of my face and the machine slowly moved me out as my entire skeleton was scanned.  I didn’t know what to look for, so I just enjoyed seeing my skeleton.  B was able to stay with me for this one which I appreciated.  He was marveling at the constellation that was me on the screen.  She also took images of the side of my head.  We got to leave 10 minutes later after the radiologist determined that she got good shots.  I must admit that I looked at her to try to get a glimpse of what she may have seen in the images.  She is not a diagnostician, I know that, but I can’t help but wonder what she was thinking.

I guess I’d describe the day as surreal.  B and I both seemed calm and present all day.  I recall saying that I felt and looked healthy.  I cannot imagine cancer spread throughout my body.  I scanned my body several times for the areas which may be affected by abnormal cells.  As hard as I tried, I kept seeing healthy cells in my organs; in my bones…my visualizations were as calming as my breathing.  I am very aware of how focused in the moment I am.  As we drove home, B asked what news I hoped to hear on Monday.  My first answer was that it has not spread.  My second answer was that it was already gone.  He said “that would be magic” and I said “I believe in miracles”.